


King of the Queens

by ThoughtaThought



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Era (Phandom), 2011 Era (Phandom), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coming Out, Depression, Existential Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, I'm Bad At Summaries, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Queer Themes, References to Depression, Shameless Smut, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Truth or Dare, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtaThought/pseuds/ThoughtaThought
Summary: What if Dan never messaged Phil?
Relationships: Dan Howell & Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Original Male Character(s), Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Phil Lester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 38





	1. Welcome to Manchester

_Hey! so… my name is Dan and_

Nah

_Dear Mr. Amazing_

Definitely not. Dan hits backspace furiously then stares at his fingers as they hover over the keyboard. What exactly is he hoping to get out of this?

_I was wondering if you could give me some editing tips_

I mean, yeah... could definitely be a legit and plausible reason to reach out? Phil seems like a cool enough bloke and Dan really likes his videos, but what is he doing right now. It’s not like he’s ever going to get a response…. But what if he did?

Dan leans back in his chair, running his hands over his face, staring at the blinking line that taunts him with its promises. He's tried to reach out to Phil so many times and every time he's crafted the perfect words and hesitated before pressing send. Maybe if he actually sends through a message this time… He leans forward, reaching toward the computer…

And exits off the browser.

With a sigh, he picks himself up and saunters his way to his bedroom. It’s well past midnight and, as much as he dreads going, he can’t show up to work tomorrow completely knackered. He was already going to be tired with less than… Dan looked at his bedside clock with a sigh… 3 hours of sleep. Gotta love those early mornings at ASDA.

*

Dan takes a deep breath before he's stood up to collect his bags from the trunk of his mum’s car, taking a step into his new life. After a year of drudging through mindless retail work, he would finally be able to start over. He could do this. He could be different. He could be better.

Most of his new dormmates had come and gone by the time he set his bags in the unoccupied room that would be his for the next year. He'd made it through the registration and orientation lines, too awkward to deny any of the frankly overwhelming number of papers advertising campus groups and scholarly resources.

His mum places her hands on either side of his face with a smile before pulling him in for a hug, then turning quickly to get in the car and drive away. He watches the car disappear with a fear of the unknown threatening to consume him, teetering into exhilaration as he revels in his newfound freedom.

There are considerably less hormone and fear-driven people leering over him here. The specialization of respective majors is a nice distraction from the differences people usually noticed about him. He had never quite sussed out what exactly had made him more obvious than other… people like him. If he had, he wouldn’t have been as obvious. He was happy to become an anonymous face in a crowd of faces for the first time in a long time.

He still got a jolt of fear every time he made accidental eye contact with the strangers around him. There was no reason to worry. They caught his eye for the same reason he’d caught theirs. People’s faces are more interesting to look at than cobblestones or grass.

One of his dormmates is called Oliver and he hasn’t made any new friends yet either. Which surprises Dan because he seems the kind of bloke who would look most comfortable surrounded by people. Their conversation starts out a little awkward, a mixture of niceties and uncomfortable silence. They’re both unpacking their bags into their respective rooms, a convenient excuse to avoid more awkward conversation. Dan hears a bed creaking and peaks around the corner to see Oliver stood on his knees, pressing the corners of a poster down at the head of his bead.

“Is that the one for Muse’s new album?” he asks, his pitch raising just a little over the band’s name.

“Yeah?” Oliver says, pushing in the last tack.

Dan clears his throat as he turns back to his room and leans over a box he has been ignoring, shifting through the bits and bobbles that had decorated his room back home. He lets out a chuckle as he pulls out his own Muse poster. He hears quiet footsteps halt just outside his door. It may have been for an older album, but he finds a natural smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turns to display his, admittedly slightly wrinkled, semi-matching poster.

“Now our rooms can be matching,” Dan says, crawling onto his own bed and grabbing some tacks out of the bowl on the side table. Oliver makes an uncomfortable noise and Dan looks over to see him scowling at the half-put-up poster. His heart shoots into his throat, “What?”

“I dunno, mate,” Oliver says, face still scrunched up, “I find your music taste utterly… amuseing,” his face twists into a hidden smirk, his eyes glittering.

Dan snorts and turns back to push pins into the bottom corners of their not-quite-matching posters. Oliver clears his throat, still at the door.

"Hey, so... I was hoping to scope out the nightlife options available around here before I'm buried in classwork," Oliver says, "it would be nice to have a drinking buddy on my first night out. Wanna come?" Dan forces himself not to physically squirm at the idea as he crawls off his bed.

"S'not really my scene," he attempts feebly.

“Don’t be a wuss, Howell,” Oli says as he presses his elbow into Dan’s ribcage, “come out with me. It’s our first weekend at uni and I want to celebrate before classes remind me why I’m actually here.” His smile shines through Dan’s reservations and before he knows it he’s laughing and agreeing that a night at the disco would be alright.

*

“Hey, Dan,” Oli yells, then jerks his head to point out a table with two girls standing near each other and sipping on drinks. Dan’s never been good at this part. He looks back at Oliver with uncertainty.

“Feeling lucky?” His lips curve around the words and Dan understands him, though he can’t hear him over the pounding electronic bass. His eyes hold a challenge and Dan can’t resist rising to meet him. The music swells around him and his fingers are starting to tingle from the shots they’d taken. He finishes his drink in one gulp and nods decisively, their eyes locked together, not trusting that his voice will carry to his friend’s ears.

The girls see them coming when they’re already halfway there. Dan’s stomach drops and he swallows through the fear, following Oliver’s lead. The brunette leans in to talk to her blonde friend over the noise of the club, then the blonde does the same to answer.

Oliver closes the remaining space with a quick hop, leaving Dan a couple steps further behind him. Dan sees Oli lean in close to the brunette’s ear to join the conversation, but just as Dan comes up behind him, Oli jumps back, nearly knocking into Dan.

“C’mon, honey, I’m just trying to buy you a drink,” he says. The brunette lets out a sigh.

“Not interested, deary.”

“What can I do to change your mind?” he starts to saunter closer to her, leading with his shoulders. He towers over her. Something about the way he’s moving makes Dan feel small. The brunette doesn’t seem to feel the same way. She shifts to square her body up against Oliver’s advances.

Oliver sees this as his opportunity to get closer. Dan can see his hips moving to shift into the brunette’s space, Oli’s desire to press himself up against her made clear and imminent, when her words ring out.

“I’m a lesbian,” she says, draping her arm around her friend’s waist and pulling her in tightly. Oli’s advance falters, but only for a second.

“I’m sure we can all have a great time together,” Oli says, “I’ll buy your lovely friend a drink too, if you’d like.” Dan’s frozen. There’s an instant pit in his stomach. He knows this is wrong and he knows he should tell Oli to lay off, but he can’t move. The blond shifts out of her friend’s grip and steps between them.

“She may be a lesbian, but I’m not,” she says, placing her painted fingertips on Oli’s chest and dragging them slowly down, then snaking them around to the small of his back. Dan can’t help but notice how immediately Oli’s body responds to the sudden physical intimacy. He sees Oli lean down and mouth a few words into her ear. She nods and they make their way to the bar, arms resting casually on each other.

Dan is trying to break out of his frozen state, staring after them, uncertain of his next step. He hears a high-pitched voice speak garbled words and looks back at the brunette just as she’s finished saying something. He feels his brow crumple with confusion before he takes a step forward and leans his ear down near her mouth.

“Your friend’s a dick,” she yells into it. His heart jumps up into his throat and he leans back far enough to see her less-than-amused face before leaning to her ear to respond.

“I think he just got carried away, but he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Dan says, but feels how untrue the words are in his mouth. Oliver’s a good guy. Probably. And he's Dan's only social link at the moment, so he steals a look at the bar where his roommate is flagrantly ignoring socially expected levels of physical intimacy with the blonde. She pushes him off her, then grabs his hand and drags him toward the exit. Oli looks excitedly over at Dan and makes some obscene gestures with his hips, smiling widely.

Dan's heart sinks. He's not surprised... and he's definitely not disappointed. He can find his own way home and maybe he'll do just that, but first…

"I need a drink." He says it to no one in particular and heads over to the space Oli had just left at the bar, leaning against his elbows and hoping he doesn't look too pitiful when the bartender shuffles over.

"Two shots of whatever's cheapest," Dan jumps and turns to see the brunette handing her card to the barkeep, "and keep my tab open."

Dan can feel his mouth hanging open, but he's had enough booze at this point that he can't actually manage to figure out how to close it.

"Don't look so shocked," she says, picking up the two shots of clear liquid and pushing one into Dan's hand, "I'm buttering you up so I have a big hunky guy to walk me home tonight." Dan's mouth closes slowly. He opens and closes it a few more times before he blurts out.

"I thought you were a lesbian." She laughs. It's very pleasant, but hinting at… something. Sad? Angry? He sneaks a quick glance to gauge her reaction and she's slamming her shot glass back onto the bar.

"Hit us again, barkeep!" She shouts, getting a nod, then she looks between Dan's face and the shot glass with her eyebrows raised. He unfreezes to throw the burning liquid down his throat. It's so harsh it makes his eyes water. Probably vodka. He sets his glass next to hers as the barkeep approaches with a bottle and tips more vodka in.

"I'm not inviting you back to mine, I just lost my drinking buddy and you lost yours and it can be… y'know… it's better to have someone to get you home." She takes the next shot, then shakes her head and makes a face, "You can think of it as a pity drink if you'd like. You look like a sad puppy whose owner just left him."

"Nah, I'm having a great time," Dan says, following suit. The bartender raises his eyebrows and the brunette nods toward the shot glasses. "This seems like an excessive amount of butter for a walk home," he says and she sighs.

"Yeah, well I bought you the one and I wanna get sloshed and it's more fun if I'm not doing that alone, so here we are." She raises her shot glass, looking Dan in the eye. "To hopeless crushes on cute straight friends. May we always have enough booze to forget them." She shoots the vile liquid, then does the face again. Dan feels frozen.

The brunette seems to see the panic in his eyes and reaches over to help him tilt the glass's contents into his mouth.

"Let's not talk about them, though," she says after he's set his glass down on the bar.

"Hi, I'm called Madeleine," she offers her hand very formally. He takes it.

"Dan."

She asks him to walk her home when the world is dark and silent with sleep. He figures it’s the gentlemanly thing to do and stumbles through the streets.

Where did she go? How had he managed to get lost?

She invites him in as the edges of his vision started to blur and the ground becomes a black hole….

He’s sat on the toilet in the bathroom and she’s peeling his shirt off. It’s wet. She kneels in front of him and undoes his belt….


	2. Confessions

Everything feels wrong, his stomach feels empty and twisted up, the bed's too soft and so are the sheets- they don't smell right and the sun is coming through the window from the wrong direction and it feels too low in the sky. He groans and rolls away from the bright light in his eyes when the back of his hand slaps against bare skin. His eyes ache as they spring open. He head spins as he sits up abruptly. 

Where are his clothes? He checks under the covers and is mortified to see he's in his pants. He turns his head slowly, hoping that will lessen the amount of spinning and sees… fuck, what was her name? Madeleine? She's laid on her stomach. Completely nude on top of the sheets. Fuck. 

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _

He's not moving, but the room around him is spinning. It's not his room. He looks out the window and hasn't the foggiest of ideas where he is.  _ Fuck. _

He shifts himself to the edge of the bed and looks around for his clothes. He doesn't see them, just an empty pot sat on an IKEA side table.  **_Fuck._ ** A light, quiet groan reaches out to him.

"Come back to bed," her voice mumbles and he feels her fingers brush along the small of his back, then freeze and disappear. The knot in his stomach tightens and swirls. 

"Shite, sorry," she says, "thought you were Ash," as if that makes any sense whatsoever, "What time is it?" He feels her shift out of bed and hears her rustling about. He can't move. He can't… what the  _ fuck _ happened last night. The room behind him goes quiet. 

"Hey, Dan," she almost whispers, "you a'right, mate?" He can't breathe. The room is still spinning. He feels his hands start to shake. His mouth tastes awful. He sees movement and flicks his eyes at it before looking back at the floor. At least she's wearing clothes now. Unlike him. He closes his eyes. What the  _ fuck  _ did he do last night? She lays something soft and fuzzy and warm over his shoulders. He feels the mattress dip beside him. 

"Are you feeling sick again?" Her hand rests on his bicep and her voice is gentle. He breathes in, gasps, really. He takes stock of his body's state. He's not going to be sick… probably. 

"No," his voice is horse and his throat feels raw, "don't have anything left in me. Feels like that anyway."

"Well, that there is a problem I can fix," the mattress moves again as she stands, "would you like breakfast in bed or will you deign to join me in the kitchen, your highness." Dan opens his eyes and looks up at her, all confusion.

"What?" She has a cheeky smile on her face and he feels himself warming to her despite his pitiful state. 

"Jesus, you must have been really plastered. I thought I was a lightweight, but you're definitely royalty in that regard as well." Dan doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say.  _ What the fuck can I say? What the fuck did I  _ **_do_ ** _? _

"Come on, Dan," she grabs his wrist and pulls him off the bed and through the door, down the hall and next to a table in the kitchen, "Sit," she points and he does, leaning forward to rest his head on the cool surface. 

He can hear the sound of her making… something. The tap starts running. "Tea?"

"Yes please." They're both quiet for a long time. Dan pulls the blanket closer around his shoulders, which reminds him. He looks up and feels sand shifting in his head with the motion. "Where are my clothes?"

"In the wash," she turns and leans against the counter while the water boils, "you made a right mess of them after we got here. Made a mess of the sheets as well." The knot in his stomach is suddenly tighter and twisting with a vengeance. 

"I lied. I'm gonna be sick." He's being pulled back into the hallway and manages to keep himself together until the exact moment that he is poised over the toilet. Guess he had quite a lot still left in him. He heaves and heaves until there's actually nothing left in his stomach at which point Madeleine comes back with a glass of water and a washcloth. She hands Dan the glass, wets the cloth in the bathroom sink, then places it gingerly on the back of his neck. 

Well, he's already sat there in his pants being cared for by her after literally spilling his guts, so…

"Did we…" he swallows thickly and looks over at the kind stranger, “Last night, did we… what happened last night?” 

"What do you remember?" Dan tries to push through the fog and grit in his brain. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Can’t think,” he rubs the sandpaper of his lids against his eyeballs, “Why were you naked?” It’s not very couth, but he’s still trying to hold onto a shred of sanity and he doesn’t have the brain cells to deal with the confusing mass of… whatever happened last night.

“Same reason you were, Dan,” her face holds steady for a full minute as she looks seriously into his eyes… then she bursts out laughing, “because you were sick all over both of us when we got back here, you dingus.” He feels himself relax.

“Thank Jesus.” 

“Yeah, surprisingly, we’re both still gay,” she giggles and rolls her eyes. Dan’s stomach drops and he’s bent over the toilet heaving up the water he just got down. When he’s finally able to right himself, she’s holding out a tissue box. He wipes the tears forced out by the violence of his stomach’s protest to keeping anything down. He tries to keep his breathing under control.

“What are you on about?” He can’t look at her. “I’m not- I mean, you can do what you want, but- I’m not-”

“Dan,” She rests her hand on his knee and he looks over at her, “I’m sorry, that was cruel. I’ll keep my promise from here on out.” 

“What promise?”

“Drunk Dan was very… forthcoming and self aware,” she chews on her left cheek, “Drunk Dan trusted me with a lot of secrets and made me promise not to rib you about it all and I don’t blame him. Especially after what those assholes did.” Her eyes meet his. A memory tugs at the back of his brain.

Dan feels himself ice over. It’s too much. He’s numb.

“Where are my clothes?” 

Her forehead creases, “I told you, they’re in the wash.”

“When will they be done?”

“Oh, um,” she stands up and leaves the room. Dan stands to flush the toilet, wiping his face off with the washcloth on his neck and tossing it on the floor. She comes back in holding out his clothes. He takes them from her and closes the bathroom door in her face without a word. 

He catches his first look at himself in the mirror above the sink. His eyes are puffy and red. There are scratches across parts of his torso and a rather intense bruise at the bottom of the left side of his ribcage. He runs his fingers over it and is surprised by the amount of pain his own touches cause. He takes his time and explores each scrape and scratch with his fingers. Some are scabbed over, others are just red lines. There’s just the one bruise, which is good… he applies pressure to it again and sucks air in through his teeth. He eyes feel warm and his nose tingles as he places his palm gently over the purple mark.

_ Cruel words slung from a dark alley. White-hot stomach and muddled sobriety mix messages and slow reflexes. Hate flows from mouths and eyes upon the small body cowering, cornered, backed against a wall in the mind of one who has only known fear- _

A gentle knocking.

“Dan?” 

He’s sitting on the floor, knees pulled up into his chest, breath rapid and face wet. Broken vocal chords gasp his reply. 

“Dan? Can I come in?” 

He’s choking, gasping and grasping against fingers too strong to pry away. 

The door opens and Dan’s feels his mouth move without sound, a sob at the back of his throat, his fingers numb, his arms tingling. 

Looking up into her face, he sees her as she was last night. Her face is more a mess of smudged makeup, her hair is flat now, her clothes don’t sparkle or hug her body. But her face holds the same fierce determination as she sinks to her knees and throws her arms around his shoulders, pulling his face to the brushed cotton of her jumper. She’s stroking her fingers through his hair and whispering softness into his ear. 

Dan lets the sobs take him. 

*

“Tell me what you remember about last night and I’ll fill in what you’re missing after, yeah?” Madeleine had helped Dan onto the couch, his clothes forgotten in favor of more fluffy blankets and a couple mugs of black tea. He takes a deep breath and starts recounting the night’s details.

They had started the night as strangers, but after their mutual abandonment and several shots, they had become fast friends. There was a lot of leaning and arms around shoulders and waists and giggles through half lit streets between bars and clubs. Inhibitions lowered, Dan had more drinks than his body could handle and he had to escape outside, where he was sick near a drain, hand braced against rough brick. 

That’s when they rounded the corner. Boisterous boys returning to campus and ready to prove their strength with fists on flesh. The physical pain was a welcome release from the hate they stared and spat at him. Then there was Madeleine, a sparkling knight in shining armor; heels clicking on pavement and bangles tinkling around her wrists. 

He steals a look at her, her eyes are smiling softly, but they're not shocked or filled with pity. He looks back down into his tea. 

He doesn’t remember what she said or what she did to get them to go, but their absence lifted the pressure that was surrounding him. She asked him to walk her home. He thought that was a really great idea. Despite emptying his stomach, he can’t remember more than flashes of moments after that. Dragging his feet as he turned to leave her doorstep and her laugh as she offered him a place on her sofa. He doesn’t remember being sick again, but he remembers her helping him strip off his soiled clothes in the loo as he tried to stay upright, sat on the toilet. 

Madeleine listens to his story, snuggled under her own blanket, cradling her own mug of tea and offering murmurs of encouragement and expletives when he mentions the altercation. 

"Well, you forgot the best part. Namely what happened after I took off your clothes," she giggles into her tea, smiling as she takes a sip, but when the mug is no longer at her lips, her face has fallen and her eyes have glassed over, "we had ourselves a heart to heart and shared a lot of stories about what it was like to grow up gay in an place that didn't accept you. Granted, I'm a girl who can pass as straight, so there wasn't nearly as much… physical confrontation for me, but there were a lot of similarities between our internal struggles." She sighs. Dan feels trapped between panic and overwhelming curiosity. He had never talked to anyone about his fraught relationship with his own sexuality. He couldn’t imagine telling his whole sob story to a complete stranger just a couple of hours after he’d met her. 

“So…” he struggles to think of what to say, but there’s a question burning the back of his sore throat, “I just straight-up told you I was...  _ gay _ ?” He hears himself whisper the word. It feels strange even uttering it, a mixture of hesitant denial rebelling against the very idea and a strange sense of… freedom. He had never allowed himself to think about it long enough to contemplate the implications of his attractions on his identity. It felt too scary to let that train of thought reach its destination. 

“Well, no. We didn’t ever get into specific labels,” she shifts and leans over to set her empty mug on the coffee table, “We had a rather lengthy discussion about how much we despise society’s laser focus on them, actually. But you said you tended to be more interested in boys.”

“Oh,” Dan feels that knot in his stomach pulling him back into his past. Now that he thought about it, every time he had felt a pull toward someone close to him, they had been boys. He had only officially had relationships with girls, but it was always little more than a formality and it always felt like a lot of effort to play the part of a doting boyfriend. There had been more fire in his short dalliances with boys during his brief stint of open bisexuality than he had ever felt for any of the girls he had officially dated. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, then rushes into her next words, like they can’t wait to be spoken, "I'd like to apologize again for trying to make a joke about it this morning. You specifically told me that sober Dan would have a hard time accepting that you told me anything. But that's bullshit for so many reasons. I mean… honestly you were just so open with me and I feel like we really hit it off as mates and I guess… I guess I didn't want to lose that just because there wasn't alcohol involved." She's looking down, interlocking her fingers together like she’s grasping for some form of comfort. 

"And the look on your face when I saw those lads around you-" she stops, her fingers tightening around each other, "I knew that look so well because I've felt it on my own face and it broke my heart and I didn't want to give you the chance to deny everything you said to me last night cause I know how  _ lonely _ it is to be in that place." She's quiet for a moment and Dan’s heart flutters, but his stomach stays knotted. 

He hadn’t had anyone he trusted enough to talk to about this stuff before now, but apparently he had trusted her with it. Apparently he had felt so safe with her that it had all come spilling out of him. A lifetime of bottled emotions and verbal abuse had silenced him, but with a little liquid courage… well, a lot of liquid courage, he had let the truth slip. 

“So… yeah,” she peeks up at him from under her fringe, “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

The silence that settles over them isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it’s definitely loaded. Dan squirms internally, trying to think of something to say and coming up short. Even as he thinks of more potential questions, his voice forgets how to work.

He lifts his mug to his lips before realising it’s inexplicably empty. His throat closes over the air as he swallows.

“More tea?”


	3. Sideways Gary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wot?

With the last of his energy Dan clicks on the new video titled “Sideways Gary.” He never knows what to expect when Phil puts out a new video, but he’s hoping that it might keep him afloat just a little longer. It usually helps.

_ Happy October! I’m so glad it’s October, September’s such a blah month. Myeh-hello, I’m September. I feel like I can be more productive now it’s the first of the month. Do you get that? I don’t know why, but yeah I’m gonna try out some more creative stuff on YouTube and generally be more involved with you guys unlike last week where me and Jimmy were playing Crash Bandicoot: the Wrath of Cortex! _

Phil and his friend proceed to bant over the videogame as they play, laughing and berrating each other with each triumph and failure. Dan feels a faint tug in the nostalgia center of his brain, memories of being sat in front of the telly and the smells of his parents’ place springing to mind before dulling and sinking back into oblivion. 

He suddenly  _ needs _ to be sat there with them. He  _ needs _ to be on that couch, curled up between the arm and cushions, preferably under several blankets. He already knew it, but it’s going to be bad today. Just then, he feels that burning desire to be  _ present _ fall prey to the weight of his body’s inability to move. The video is still playing from his laptop, but he can’t really see the screen through the buzzing fuzziness that is slowly taking over his thoughts. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but eventually Madeleine emerges from her room down the hall, steps shifting wearily to the bathroom, where she stays for a while, then out to the kitchen. Dan hears the tap running and the sharp note of a metal kettle being set on its burner. It’s quiet for a while.

“Dan?” Madeleine’s voice is just audible over the rushing waves of emptiness bashing against every edge inside Dan’s skull, “What are you still doing here? I thought you had class on Tuesday mornings.” 

Through the breaking waves, Dan can’t quite focus on the meaning behind her words. They sound important and Dan feels a gentle pull toward comprehension under the currents swirling heavily around him. He’s aware of the next few minutes, but unable to move from his place on the couch as Madeleine flits around. 

He feels the warm weight of a comforter as it’s draped over his body. He hears the kettle scream, then peter off as it's removed from the stove. He hears the tinkling of ceramic mugs being moved around and soft, unhurried pats of bare feet against tile and wood flooring. He sees and hears her bring over two mugs, which she sets on the coffee table in front of him. He can’t seem to move his eyes to look up at her face. He vaguely hopes she isn’t cross with him for being a lump on her couch.

“Another one of those, then,” she says, then she pulls his legs off the edge of the couch and lets his sock covered feet plop onto the floor. She moves up to where he can see her again and physically lifts his upper body, settling down beside him before he can sink back into the cushions. She places a hand on the shoulder nearest hers, helping to keep him upright before leaning forward to grab a mug of tea. Without his permission, his hands reach up to take it from her. She leans forward and grabs the other mug before pulling her legs under her and letting his shoulder lean heavily into hers. She takes a sip of tea, then leans her head against his shoulder. 

It feels like he’s staring through a narrow tunnel. He can see the light at the end, but it’s usually so cold and lonely that it feels like an impossibility, getting to the other side. He can’t thank her yet, but the hot tea and silent company of the warm snuggly human beside him is helping stave off the cold. 

* 

“Your majesty,” Madeleine bows with unnecessary depth, keeping her eyes locked with his as he glares as her. It’s become an old joke and though he’s gotten used to her reference to their first drunken escapade, the truth behind the reference hasn’t shifted comfortably into place… yet.

“Your carriage awaits.”

“Shove off, Mads,” he snorts, “We’re walking and you know it.”

“It’s a  _ metaphor _ , Daniel,” she stands with a flourish of her wrist, moving to open the door and tilting her head to indicate that he pass through it ahead of her. He rolls his eyes without restraint, stepping into the significantly chillier air. It’s already dark, despite it being just after eight. They’re getting an early start, going out to the numerous bars that are actually open at this early time so that Dan’s nice and loose when Madeleine pops his gay club cherry. 

It’s a vulgar metaphor, Dan thinks, and biologically irrelevant, but as he’s feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement, the implications of the phrase fit his situation perfectly. 

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he quips, heightening the level of posh in his accent until it’s dripping diamonds, “Where is you sense of decorum? Am I not still royalty and thus deserving of a tad more formality than this form of uncomfortably familiar address?” He hears her snort and turns back to face her, feigning mortification at such an outburst.

“Forgive me, my liege,” she skips forward one step, then falls into another deep bow, dropping her head to conceal her grin. When she stands back up Dan offers her his arm and she moves with exaggerated grace to take it. After half a block of walking regally on the balls of their feet, chins high and backs straight, they dissolve into a bout of giggles and relax comfortably into each other. Dan slings a lazy arm around her shoulders and she slides an arm around his waist as they make their way to their first stop. 

*

When they arrive at their final destination several hours later there’s a layer of bubbles bouncing around with the shifting lights of a nightclub in full swing. Dan giggles unabashedly with giddiness. His joints are loose, his muscles relaxed, but he’s learned to know his limits and he’s been steadily refining his ability to keep himself in the happy medium between sober and completely pissed. 

Despite his earlier anxiety toward the idea, he finds that he’s just excited. Madeleine has done a great job of keeping him happily distracted and properly inebriated in the buildup to his grand entrance into the gay scene. Of course he should have expected that she would make sure it was a truly grand entrance. There’s a curtain separating the entryway from the club major. Madeleine pulls him toward it, then stops. She turns to look at him with a shimmer of mischief settled over her face, then sweeps the curtains aside, pure flare.

“My lords, my ladies,” she shouts, then daintily picks up the edges of her miniskirt, curtsying all the way to the ground, “I am pleased to present the debut of his majesty: King of the Queens and Lord of the Queers, Daniel Howell.” With a flourish of her wrist, she steps to the side, bowing dramatically as he walks through the curtains. His face feels hot, but it’s only partly because of his friend’s extravagant introduction. There’s a bar, some tables to stand at, and a dance floor with an open stage. The room is loud and teeming with bodies. The likelihood of anyone hearing the proclamation over the music and the chattering of voices is remarkably slim.

“Was that really necessary?” he says, once Madeleine has returned to an upright position. 

“Yes,” she says, “Fancy a blow job to get you going?” 

Dan sputters, eyes wide, “Wha-who-can-can’t I go on a date first?”

Madeleine laughs, “It’s the name of a shot, Dan.” 

They make their way over to the crowded bar and Dan hangs back, letting Madeleine order their drinks. The bartender’s emo fringe keeps falling over his eyes and being flipped back with a flick of his head as he walks up and down the bar, leaning over it to take drink orders over the noise, then juggling bottles and glasses until each drink is made. It looks like the wait will be a while, so Dan turns casually to run his eyes through the crowd. The movement makes the room spin a bit so maybe he’d overdone it on the booze tonight, but after the week he’s had he figures he’s allowed to get a little sloppy. When his focus returns to a relatively normal amount of wobbly, his eyes are drawn to a shock of blonde hair nestled in the writhing bodies on the dance floor.  _ Shit.  _

He turns quickly back toward the bar and leans into Mad’s ear, “Fucking Ashley’s here,” he says trying not to panic. Madeleine’s eyes are wide when she looks at him, but she has to turn back quickly as their shots have just appeared. She goes to reach for them, but the bartender shakes his head, withdrawing his hands with the shots still in them. Dan can only stare, utterly confused, while the bartender leans in to say something in Madeleine’s ear, then sets the shots down on the bar, leaving his hands on either side of them. 

Madeleine glances over her shoulder at Dan, all smirks and eyebrows. She bends over, grabbing the rim of the shot glass between her lips, then lets the liquid flow into her mouth, hands free. He sees her distorted tongue flit forward to grab the last drops of liquor, then she pulls the glass free with a pop. She closes her eyes as she licks her lips. When she opens them again, she’s smiling.

“What the fuck was that?” 

“A blowjob, Dan,” she says, wiggling her fingers in front of her face, “No hands!” 

“Oh,” he says, “I’ve never had one before.” Madeleine cackles.

“No-wait-I meant-” he shoves her shoulder, his smile betraying his desire to keep it cool, “You’re the worst person in the world.” He shoves her again, just for good measure.

“Just wrap those lips around the rim and let the warming liquid slide down your throat,” she’s not doing any better keeping her cool as she conceals her giggles with another ridiculous bow, “Your majesty.” He looks at the bartender, whose eyes are a striking color of blue, looking for guidance. The guy just gestures at the shot glass on the counter, then puts his hands behind his back with a flip of his hair and a smile. 

_ Fuck it. _ He leans over the bar, hands on either side of the shot, and wraps his lips around the cool glass. His tongue touches the whipped cream before he stands back up and lets the liquor fall into his mouth. It’s devine. Coffee and cream with just a bite of alcohol. He licks his lips as he stares at the now empty glass, feeling a smile creep over his face as he turns to look at his friend.

“Good?”

“Best blowjob I’ve ever had.” 

“Another round, and tack on a third,” Ashley seems to have come from nowhere, “This one’s on me. Love a good blowjob.” 

*

He doesn’t remember leaving, but he must have because he’s cold and alone and not quite sure where his feet have taken him. It’s windy and he doesn’t have his jacket. He’s still not familiar with these Manchester streets, so he starts looking for any sign that might indicate where he is. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he picks it out with numbing fingers.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Madeleine’s voice is an anchor, staying his steps.

“Honestly,” Dan looks around again, but he’s between intersections and doesn’t see a street sign yet, “I have no fucking idea.” A shiver starts in his stomach and radiates all the way to his toes. His knees are going to start knocking together soon. He doesn’t remember it being this cold when they left the flat earlier, but the sun has been down long enough that he can suddenly see his breath against the streetlights.

“Well tell me as soon as you figure it out so I can find you. I’m not getting suckered back into Ash’s bullshit tonight and I need you with me to make sure I don’t cave.” 

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Standing outside the club hoping to see your stupid face come around a corner.” She sounds quite cross, but Dan spots a hooded figure walking in his direction on the other side of the street. Dan steels himself and starts to cross hoping that he can get some kind of direction from the stranger. “It’s fucking freezing. Are we going home or did you want to stay a while longer? We barely even got in here before Ash-”

“Hang on, I just found someone and I’m gonna ask for directions.”

“Call me back if you get murdered.”

“Will do.” Dan ends the call and reaches out tentatively to touch the stranger’s shoulder, “Excuse me? Could you point me in the direction of Princess Street? I’ve gotten kinda-” The man turns and Dan suddenly feels very sober. The bright blue eyes are muted by the yellow street lamps and the black fringe is full of splinges, but it’s unmistakably  _ him _ . The wind has made his cheeks a little red and his lips a little chapped and  _ good God, those lips _ . 

“What?” Phil pushes his headphones and hood back as he turns to look at Dan, then puts his hands into the pockets of his coat. 

“Um… Princess Street?” he hears himself say, “I’m lost.” Phil huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s me most of the time,” Phil looks around like he’s trying to find some kind of landmark before turning back to Dan, “Is that near the Art Gallery? I’m no good at street names, mostly find things by what’s around them.” Dan shakes his head, trying to clear it. The skin on his arms is burning with cold, but his face is on fire and he can’t seem to get his thoughts together.

“Erm… I think there’s a Tesco near there?” He’s staring. What is he supposed to be doing with his hands? He needs to stop staring and do something with his hands.

“Oh, the one near Cafe Nero?”  _ Goddamn that smile _ . “I love that place. A little pricey, but they make the best themed drinks.” 

“Erm… I think so,” Dan shoves his hands in his jean’s pockets and looks at his feet as he pushes air around on the pavement, “I’m kinda new in town. Not sure where everything is yet.” 

“What?” Shit. He’s mumbling. Shit. 

“Uh, I said I’m new in town,” he makes an effort toward volume and enunciation, “Not sure where things are quite yet.”

“Oh,” Phil looks around again, then back at Dan, “Well, I mean, I think I know where that is, but... I’m rubbish at telling left from right most of the time and I don’t really want to get you  _ more _ lost. I could maybe...” He looks back at Dan with creased eyebrows, “Maybe I could, like, show you? Like, where I think you’re trying to go?” 

His heart isn’t supposed to feel like it’s about to break his ribs, but it’s doing a good job of that. He is suddenly very aware of every goosebump rippling across his skin. At least being cold has the benefit of keeping him from fixating too much on the fact that fucking AmazingPhil is stood in front of him offering to chaufeur him to a gay club. Well, Phil doesn’t know he going to a gay club. Fuck. He’s asking Phil for directions to a gay club. 

“I mean… I guess that’s weird,” Phil says, looking down, “Sorry, you probably don’t want to follow a stranger to-”

“I’m Dan.” 

Phil looks up with a shy smile and creased eyebrows, “Phil.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan immediately wants to grab the words out of the air and shove them back down his throat, “I mean, I’ve seen some of your videos.” Lies. He’s seen all of them. Multiple times. 

“Oh,” Phil doesn’t seem too bothered at least, “Then I don’t need to explain my utter lack of orientating skills.” Fuck, he’s doing that smile where his tongue sticks out between his teeth. It’s so much better in person. Dan can feel a smile creeping up to match Phil’s. 

“Yeah,” he sighs a laugh, then shivers, “Well lead the way, Mr. Amazing. I’m freezing my tits off over here.” What the fucking shitballs was that. Phil laughs, thank God, and starts heading in a direction with a beckoning wave. Dan’s feet are a little numb and fumbly across the pavement. Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s still in his system. Standing still and being cold had made him forget his inebriated state, but now that he’s walking he feels unsteady and a little more sloshed than he thought he was. He has to keep his focus very firmly on the pavement right in front of his feet, but he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open all of the sudden. His arms feel numb, but at least he’s not shivering anymore. 

“So, what brings you to this particular dark street so late at night?” Phil asks. Dan shrugs and his shoulder joints ache a little with the movement. 

“I ran away.”

“What, like, from home?” Phil sounds terrified for a second, “How old are you again?” 

Dan gestures frantically, looking up at Phil again, “Oh, nonononono. I’m nineteen- just started uni- I ran away cause I saw someone at the club.” The words coming out of his mouth are a lot more jumbled and mumbled than usual, but he’s not sure if it’s the booze or the cold or the Phil… thing. 

“What’re  _ you _ doin’ out here so late?” he fires back. 

“Oh, you know, just trying to clear my head,” Phil’s smiling at him, but it looks… sad. Dan wants to ask why Phil’s taking a sad walk on a cold night when the toe of his shoe gets caught on the ground and suddenly he’s pitching forward, unable to right himself. Phil grabs his wrist, so instead of falling on his face, his body twists and rolls rather harmlessly from his shoulder to his back. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Phil asks from above his face. He looks so magical. He’s got a bloody halo of bloody light from the streetlamp and their ghostly breaths are mixing together around his face. Dan doesn’t feel any pain, but he moves around a bit to check, wiggling his shoulders and hips and arms and legs. The pavement doesn’t feel great against his back but it also doesn’t really feel that cold, just kinda gritty against his skin. 

“I’m good, I think,” he says, trying to get up, but his arms and legs feel like they’re weighted and the world’s kinda spinning from the weird way he fell, “I’m not hurt.”

“Here,” Phil’s hand is in front of his face and Jesus Fuck he’s still got that halo of light around his head. Dan’s hand is shaking as he grasps onto Phil’s.

“Wow, you’re freezing!” Phil says as he pulls him off the ground, “How have your fingers not fallen off?”

Dan looks at his hands. They’re red and they feel dry to the touch, but they don’t feel cold. They actually feel kinda warm. He hugs his shoulders and they feel warm too. He’s warm all over and suddenly very sleepy. He’s just stood up, but he wants to be back on the ground. He wants to curl up and sleep for a while.

“M’sleepy,” he says through hazy eyes, “Could I lie back down?” When he looks up, he registers concern on Phil’s face. Dan reaches out to smooth the crinkled skin between his eyebrows because he wants to and he likes Phil’s face and he’s just kind of in awe that Phil is close enough for him to touch. 

Phil grabs his wrist. His jaw is clenched, but he mostly looks... worried.

“We’re going back to mine,” he says.

“Wot?” Dan doesn’t have enough brain cells to comprehend what’s happening. Phil doesn’t look cross, but he does look determined.

“It’s only a couple of blocks away, come on.” With that, Phil turns and starts walking.

He keeps a hold of Dan’s wrist until they get inside the door of Phil’s flat. 


	4. At Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil's flat

Dan’s eyelids feel heavy as he walks through the door. He vaguely registers that he’s in Phil’s flat, that Phil is stood right in front of him, toeing off his shoes just inside the door. Mostly he just feels numb and sleepy and kinda breathless. Burning with a primal physical desire to be horizontal and covered in blankets. 

He follows Phil through the flat, down a hall and into a room: Phil’s bedroom. He immediately recognizes the checkered duvet and pillows. Phil pulls back the covers and pats the sheets where he’s revealed them saying, “Sit.” So Dan does.

“We’ve got to get you warmed up slowly, so we need to take off your shoes and trousers, then get you some more blankets, yeah?” Phil is looking down at him, waiting for some confirmation that he understands what’s being said and doesn’t object. Dan doesn’t object. All he wants right now is to lay down and sleep. He bobs his head incoherently. That seems to be enough for Phil.

Phil kneels in front of him and sits back on his heels, pulling Dan’s foot onto his thigh. He removes his shoe, then his sock, placing Dan’s bare foot back on the ground before pulling his other foot onto his thigh and repeating his actions. Once he’s set that foot down, he looks back at Dan, who is wiggling his toes against the carpet that feels hot and scratchy against his bare skin.

“Can you get your trousers off?” Dan stares blankly for a second, before realising he’s been asked to do something. He moves his fingers to his belt and fumbles for a while, unable to get them to cooperate. Eventually he gives up, letting his useless hands drop onto his thighs, his chin sagging to his chest. 

“Can I help you get them off?” Phil asks, quiet but firm. Dan looks at him through his eyebrows and bobs his head again. Phil gently picks up Dan’s hands and moves them to the bed before he reaches for Dan’s belt, unbuckling it swiftly. He undoes the button and pulls down the zip with similar ease. Then his hands are gone again.

“Can you stand?” Dan closes his eyes and scrunches up his face to think. His brain isn’t processing fast enough and everything feels like jelly. 

“I don’think so,” is all he can manage. Phil places a hand on his knee, so Dan looks at him. There’s a gentle calm spread over Phil’s features.

“That’s alright. If you lay back for me, I can help you get them off.” Dan all but flops back into the heaven that is being horizontal. He feels Phil’s warm fingers slide into the place between his pants and jeans as Phil says, “Lift,” gently and Dan’s body complies without consulting his brain. Once Phil has Dan’s trousers to his knees, he flops his bum back onto the bed and starts laughing breathily. Pretty soon he’s giggling.

“Lift your feet, Dan,” Phil says, “And what’s so funny?”

Dan snorts, “Philip Lester is taking my pants off while I’m laid on his bed.” He falls into a fit of laughter, his knees curling into his chest as he grasps at his torso, which gives Phil the perfect position to slip his jeans the rest of the way off. 

“AmazingPhil is getting me naked,” he giggles some more. Phil stands, shaking his head with a smile.

“You’re naked enough. Now get your head up on that pillow so I can tuck you in.” Dan complies and Phil lifts the duvet over him, letting it fall gently over his bare legs. Dan shivers as it settles over his body. His arms and legs are starting to tingle as his blood warms. 

“I’m going to make you some tea and grab some more blankets,” Phil says, then he turns to leave and Dan’s shivers get more frequent and violent the longer he’s gone. His bones ache as his body remembers what warmth is.

The shivering is uncontrollable by the time Phil returns with a mug in one hand and blankets draped over his arm. He sets the tea on the bedside table, then opens one of the blankets over Dan’s shivering form. 

“Can you sit up?” he asks. Dan shakily lifts himself into a sitting position, scooting back until he’s near the headboard. Phil drapes another blanket over his head and around his shoulders, then retrieves the tea and hands it to Dan while sitting down at the edge of the bed. Dan sighs as the warmth radiating off the mug starts to set into his tingling fingers. He breathes in the steam, closing his eyes as he feels his lungs start to thaw. He takes a sip, moaning as he feels its warmth melting his body all the way down into his stomach. 

“That good, huh?” He opens his eyes to see Phil smiling at him. He nods, then puts his lips against the side of the mug, just to warm them up. 

“Thanks,” Dan mumbles against the warm ceramic. 

“You’re very welcome,” Phil is still smiling and even though he doesn’t have a backlit halo anymore Dan can’t imagine he’s ever seen anyone so beautiful in his life. 

Then his jeans start buzzing on the floor. Phil looks over at them, then back to Dan, “Want me to grab that for you?” 

“Shit, that’s probably Madeleine,” Dan says. His mind must have frozen over as well, “Yeah, could you?” Phil struggles to get Dan’s phone out of his pocket, then hands it over. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Phil says and shuts the door on his way out. 

Dan sighs before answering, “Hey Mads.”

“Where the  _ fuck _ are you?” Dan has to hold the phone quite a ways from his eardrum, “When I said to call if you got murdered I meant to call me back so I know you’re safe! I really need your help fighting off Ash’s relentless barrage of flirtation!” 

“Sorry Mads,” he picks a fuzzy thing off the blanket draped over his lower half, “I got kinda… sidetracked.” 

“You best not be fucking some hot stranger. We promised we weren’t going to flake on each other tonight.”

“Do you think I would have answered if I was?” Dan rolls his eyes before closing them.

“Yeah, well that still doesn’t explain why I’ve been feigning irritable bowel syndrome for the past half hour just to avoid being groped by my very fit, not-ex-girlfriend!” 

“Are you still at the club?” 

“Yes, fuckface. I’m in the club toilets. I thought you were showing back up any second and we were actually going to have a fun night out like proper queers, but then his majesty abandoned me and disappeared after asking for directions from a stranger on the street.” 

“I’m sorry, Mads,” he says again, “I really didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I’ll find my way back to the club and we can figure out what to do with the rest of our night, okay?” 

“Fucking hell, what happened? You mean you're not headed back here now?”

“Erm, no.” How exactly can he explain what’s just happened to him? He’s feeling much more himself, but he’s not completely thawed and his brain isn’t working fast enough to process… any of this. “Well, I got a bit cold and loopy, so now I’m being brought tea and blankets by the guy I asked for directions?” It sounds too strange to be real. Apparently Madeleine doesn’t get it either because she’s just quiet on the other end of the line. 

“Also he took my trousers off?”

“What the fuck, Dan?” She doesn’t sound angry, just confused.

“Are you asking  _ me _ ? Cause... I’m really not sure how I ended up in a stranger’s bed in my pants without the pretense of sexual favors.” It’s quiet again. 

“Are you alright?” Madeleine’s voice has that shimmer of concern that Dan usually only hears on the days when he can’t respond to her gestures of kindness.

“Yeah, I am now,” he feels safe and is warming up and he really doesn’t want to go back out into the cold. Honestly, he doesn’t even know if he’d be able to get back into his jeans at this point, “Phil’s really nice. He hasn’t done anything weird, so I don’t think he’s a cannibal.”

“Yeah, Phil’s not weird,” she snorts, “He just took you to his flat and got you into your pants while you were drunk and half-frozen to death.” Madeleine’s definitely not convinced of Phil’s altruism. 

“Yeah, it does sound a bit fucked,” he can’t really argue with that. 

“Is he there with you now?” 

“No, he went to the other room.”

“Could I talk to him?” 

“I suppose.” Dan waits a minute, just feeling his fingertips and toes tingle.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you call the creeper back into the room and hand him the phone, please?” 

“Oh,” Dan’s really not doing great with the thinking tonight, “yeah.”

So he does and Phil takes the phone with raised eyebrows as Dan falls back into the sheets of Phil’s bed, one blanket still wrapped around his head and shoulders. The longer Phil talks, the less Dan is able to focus on what he’s actually saying. His eyelids feel heavy and the gentle cadence of Phil’s low timbre helps him relax into the unfamiliar bed with a sigh. Being horizontal really is heaven.

“Would you like to talk to him again?” Phil’s voice is far off, like a whisper of wind through leaves. Dan doesn’t fight the waves of sleep that overtake him, pulling him into unconsciousness. 

*

Dan opens his eyes and sees his jeans on the floor. He looks down at the blankets piled on top of him. He moves to get up, feeling sluggish with sleep. He shivers as the blankets slide off him. The room isn’t cold really, but leaving his warm cocoon makes his skin tingle into gooseflesh. He quickly grabs for the blanket that had been draped over his shoulders and pulls it back around himself, snuggling into the residual warmth of it. He feels fuzzy and his mouth is dry. That’s when he notices the glass of water sat on the bedside table next to his phone, which is plugged in. He grabs the glass and gulps the luke-warm liquid until it’s half gone. Head a little clearer, he can smell something… delicious. He stands and shuffles lazily toward the bedroom door, letting his nose lead him into the kitchen where Phil is standing in front of the stove. The sounds of sizzling bacon and the sweet smell of pancakes and coffee assaulting his nostrils. 

Then Dan realises. 

He’s in a shirt and pants. With Phil’s blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He’d slept in Phil’s bed. In Phil’s flat. Phil Lester had taken his jeans off last night and he was too out of it to even properly remember it. 

And now he’s half naked standing at Phil’s back and he can’t move. 

Phil pushes something around in the pan, then turns to get a mug off the counter next to him and starts with a little yelp when he sees Dan out of the corner of his eye, hand flying to his chest. 

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles.

“No, it’s alright, just didn’t hear you get up,” Phil reaches into an already open cabinet, “Would you like some coffee? Or tea?” 

“Tea, please,” Dan is still standing in the middle of the floor. He feels stuck there and his thoughts are stuck too... “I’m not wearing trousers.”

Phil laughs as he turns to add the kettle to the stove, “You can sit at the table if you like. Breakfast is almost ready.” Dan doesn’t verbally respond, just resumes shuffling his feet idly in a direction. 

He eventually finds his way into a chair, crossing his legs under himself and tucking the blanket closer around his shoulders. There’s a picture of Phil and Jimmy making funny faces with their arms wrapped around each other on the wall in front of Dan. He looks at the picture until his eyes lose focus. He’s surprised when a mug and plate are placed in front of him, clinking gently against the table. 

Phil goes to retrieve a similar mug and plate then settles into the chair opposite him.

“Feeling better this morning?” Phil’s voice is gentle and Dan is staring again. His brain is foggy as he takes in the blue eyes, the black fringe, the broad shoulders stretching a plaid button-up with every breath. Slender fingers wrapped around cutlery, deftly moving bites of pancake from the plate to push them between soft, pink lips. Muscles revealing hollows between jaw and cheekbones, adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow. Dan swallows over nothing at all the visual stimuli.

“Dan?” 

“Yeah,” Dan’s still staring, “Good.” 

“Your breakfast is getting cold,” Phil’s lips spread across his face until they open, revealing teeth. Dan looks down at his plate with considerable effort. 

The pancakes smell delicious and his mouth is watering, so he extricates a hand from the blanket surrounding him, careful to remain as covered as possible against the chill that’s running up his spine. He shivers despite feeling cozy and warm and starts to create the perfect bite, stabbing a bit of bacon then a couple pieces of pancake. When the syrup-slippery morsel makes it to his mouth he revels in the crunchy gooey softness of it all, sighing his satisfaction at the salty-sweet collection of textures. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s met with unblinking blue appraisal. His cheeks feel warm as he works his fork around to craft another bite. He chews and swallows, then reaches for his mug and frowns into the dark translucence.

“Do you have any cream?”

“Oh, yeah,” Phil walks over to the fridge and brings some back, placing it in front of Dan, “Do you take sugar as well?”

“No…. Thanks,” Dan feels like he should be saying thanks for a lot more than some cream. He watches Phil settle back down across from him. Phil works his way through a few bites before speaking again.

“So what exactly happened last night?” Phil asks as he sips his coffee, “You seemed a little out of it when we first met. Was that the hypothermia or something else?” Phil’s expression is gentle, his eyes soft with curiosity. 

Dan’s cogs click slowly as his brain thaws under warm eyes. 

“I’m not sure,” he says without breaking eye contact. He’s got a warm mug cradled in his hands, just like he had last night, “Sometimes things happen and I get lost for a while. Usually when I find my way back I’m alone.” 

“Lucky thing I was there then,” the suggestion of a smile crinkles the outer corners of Phil’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” Dan says, “Lucky.”


	5. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to lose without really trying

“He’s in a rather vulnerable place right now,” Madeleine’s voice is saying as the door closes, “It’s nothing you’ve done. This just happens occasionally. Especially when he’s stressed.” He’d been led back into Phil’s room earlier and placed back under the duvet on Phil’s bed. It’s impossible not to feel comfortable, but he hasn’t moved in long enough that his body is no longer content with his position. The fog weighs heavily down the length of him, blurring reality.

“It’s usually over within the day, but if you need your bed back I think I can get him back to mine-”

“No, no. I don’t mind helping out,” Phil’s voice fades into the distance as they move down the hall and out of audibility. The absence of voices swirls around him and he’s pulled under, falling weightlessly into the void, bouncing on the invisible edges of infinite space. 

_ The ground is hard against his elbow then the blunt toe of trainers bruise. It’s supposed to mean happy, but he only feels fear flooding through his veins as the word is spat, salty against his ears. _

_ Soft lips smooth rough edges. Gentle heat pushes as fingers curl together, hidden behind clothes in crevices tucked away from curious eyes. _

_ Clattering around him and sharp pain: they hit their target as he rushes toward escape. _

_ Pleasant pain as he’s pushed into plush sheets, feeling pleasure pulsing him open, over and over. _

_ Sharp, stuck, struck across the face. Numbing removal, resolve and resolution. Pain has no place in the space that separates mind from body.  _

“Dan, love,” Madeleine’s fingers grace his cheek, tethering him back to his body. He opens his eyes, “I’d like you to drink this. Can you try, for me?” 

A straw presses against his lips and he inhales through them, then closes back around and pulls the thick blend in, swallowing. Pull. Swallow. Pull. Swallow. Again and again until only air is left. The mixture is soft as it fills him and he sighs as his eyes flutter shut again. 

*

Laughter babbles, muffled behind a closed door. He revels in the soft fabric laid across the bare skin of his chest. He doesn’t remember taking his shirt off, but he’s glad he did. He stretches his body out and is surprised when he’s able to fully extend every bit of him without touching a wall or reaching over the edges of the bed. 

Such a comfy bed. The laughter swells briefly again and Dan opens his eyes. His surroundings aren’t unfamiliar, but they confuse him for several moments before he’s able to remember where he is. 

He sits up abruptly looking around for his clothes, hoping they haven’t disappeared. His jeans and shoes are missing from the floor, but there’s a pair of sweats and a jumper folded and neatly set on the bedside table. He grabs them and hastily shoves them over his various limbs, standing to pull the sweats over his pants. 

Okay, so, he’s dressed… now what? He hears Madeleine’s laugh and Phil’s voice and instinctively moves toward them. 

He peeks his head around the corner and Madeleine spots him.

“Dan!” she rushes around the counter and slides her hands around his waist, snuggling into his sternum. Dan’s arms automatically wrap over her shoulders and he places his cheek on her head, “I’ve missed you,” she says as she sighs into him.

“How long was I gone?” he always asks. Time ceases to exist when his mind withdraws from reality. 

“Maybe six hours?” she turns to look at the time on the stove, “Oh, shit. More like eight.” 

Dan sighs, running a hand over his face. He feels a fist grip around his stomach when he meets Phil’s eyes. Phil has that gentle smile on his face. There’s no pity hidden there, which is a relief. 

“Thanks for…” he doesn’t even know where to start.

“Well, Phil has a track record for taking in strays,” Madeleine laughs at Dan fondly, “Just like me. I mean, really. Who can resist those puppy dog eyes?” She makes a show of puffing out her bottom lip, eyes going wide. Dan breathes a laugh. The worst is over, but he’s worn out from the ordeal that found him in Phil’s bed and the subsequent sinking into nothingness. 

And now he’s faced with the reality of the situation in front of him. 

He wants to explain himself to Phil, but honestly it’s all a little too much to handle. He wouldn’t even know where to start. How can he explain why he was wandering the streets in mid-November without a jacket? Or why his stare had gone blank after a couple bites of breakfast? What do you say to someone who is willing to take care of a stranger? Thank you just isn’t enough. An explanation isn’t enough. Nothing he could do or say would ever be enough. 

And that’s before taking into account that Phil’s videos had been the light through his darkest days before uni. Phil doesn’t know that, but the weight of all that Phil has done for him sinks heavily onto his chest. 

“Hey,” Madeleine’s hand moves into view and lifts his chin, “Do you need to go home?” Dan looks at Phil, who shrugs.

“You’re free to stay or leave,” he says, “I’m not pressed for time, but I won’t be offended if you can’t stick around.” That leaves the silence to take back over the room. As much as Dan wants to run away from the sticky mess of his feelings, he also knows it will follow him wherever he goes today. He really wants familiarity and even though he hadn’t been in Phil’s flat until yesterday, everything about it feels familiar. 

“Would you fancy some tea?” Phil asks. 

He must not be desperate for them to leave, so Dan doesn’t feel too bad when he responds with, “Yes, please.”

*

They end up having tea and biscuits and talking in the lounge. Well, Phil and Madeleine talk. Dan follows the conversation and laughs when something is funny, but his contributions are fairly limited. Madeleine ends up snuggled under Dan’s arm on the couch with Phil sitting in the chair situated between the couch and telly. The hours Madeleine spent chatting with Phil established a repertoire of topics that already feel familiar between them and Dan doesn’t want to interrupt the flow of conversation for the most part.

“So how long have you two been together?” Phil asks. Madeleine is mid-sip and she snorts into a coughing-laughing fit for a good minute. Dan pats her on the back as she recovers, giggling.

“Yeah, we’re not a couple,” she says, “Not even a little!” Madeleine is shaking her head, eyes wide.

“Ouch,” Dan replies, placing a hand over his heart, “What if I were secretly harboring a crush of epic proportions and biding my time, waiting for our friendship to bloom into something more?” 

“Are you?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Alas, I am no longer! Woe is me, that my hopes and dreams be crushed so flippantly by your thoughtless rebuff of my impassioned cries for your love!” Madeleine feigns gagging and Phil is chuckling at the dramatic scene they’re playing out in front of him.

“Not dating,” Phil laughs, “Got it.” 

Madeleine looks at Dan and makes a high-pitched sound of scepticism. “We have spent a suspicious amount of nights snuggling mostly-naked in the same bed,” she says. Dan rolls his eyes.

“You’re usually the naked one,” he says, then turns to Phil with exaggerated seriousness, “Drunk Madeleine is a nudist.” The comment gets him a punch in the arm.

“It’s true!” Dan continues emphatically through the pain, “It takes everything I have to keep her clothes on until we get back to her flat! Even when it’s below freezing!” 

“Like you’re any better!” Madeleine quips back, “Drunk Dan is  _ soooo _ clingy and even more of a human space heater than usual.” Phil laughs along with them... or at them. It’s not really clear, but Dan isn’t bothered. 

He knows how his and Madeleine’s relationship looks from the outside. They had never really spoken about it, but their physical intimacy and familiar banter is often something they use to camouflage themselves when they’re outside the safe bubble of her flat. It works well for both of them: Mads doesn’t have to deal with douchebags trying to hit on her and Dan doesn’t have to deal with douchebags trying to hit him. It doesn’t hurt that they genuinely enjoy each other’s casual touches. It’s a nice distraction from their individual loneliness. 

“If I remember correctly,  _ you’re _ always the one who drags  _ me _ into your bed at the end of our overindulgent nights,” Dan says. 

“Only because you give me those sad puppy eyes when I don’t!” Madeleine laments, placing the back of her hand gingerly against her brow, “Phil understands my torment!” She flops dramatically onto the arm of the couch, splaying her legs over Dan’s lap. 

Phil is giggling when Dan looks over at him, “Do you have any idea what she’s on about?” 

Madeleine sighs, “He fell prey to them when you approached him, lost and in distress!”

Phil laughs, “You did have the lost puppy look about you.”

“It’s part of my charm,” Dan says, then realises, “Wait, were you two conspiring behind my back? What have I ever done to deserve such slander?” 

“Not slander, just discussion,” Madeleine says, sitting back up and plopping her feet onto the floor, “Phil’s been quite worried since you showed up and he’s not above asking for help when he needs it.” 

_ Ouch _ . Dan’s eyes start to prickle before he forces his heart to ice over. It doesn’t matter if she actually meant to make a jab at his sub-par coping skills. 

“It was more like I had a stranger in my bed who very clearly had hypothermia and I needed to know there was someone who could help him find his way home,” Phil says. Dan would usually soften at this, relax into a reprieve from his internal self-battery.

Logically, he knows that flipping the switch off on his emotions never ends well and doesn’t actually fix anything, but it’s already been done. 

“You didn’t call me back until the morning,” Madeleine points out, “Far too early after a night on the town, mind you.” 

“I’ll try to be more considerate of your office hours next time I have Dan over,” Phil says with a smile at Dan. As if there will be a next time. As if Phil would want Dan back over when it wasn’t under duress. 

Dan shifts seamlessly into a different gear and the rules of his world change. 

“Well it’s getting kinda late and I have exams coming up,” he hears himself saying as he stands to leave, “I know I tend to avoid facing my shit, but I’ve actually managed to have passing grades in my classes and I don’t want to fuck it up now,” he says while walking to the door. His coat is laid next to it, so he sloughs it over his shoulders before pushing his toes into his shoes, placing his hand on the knob to leave.

“Alright, hang on a sec and I’ll come with you,” Madeleine is saying as she forces herself to her feet, “You gonna stay at mine tonight?” Dan shakes his head, hand still poised to open the door.

“Gotta make a showing at hall if I want to keep my spot as a socialite in academia.”

“Yeah, you’ll be a right charmer come graduation,” Madeleine snorts, “It’s a wonder you haven’t been elected class president.” Dan stiffens. Words can still sting even when his voice doesn’t waver with emotion.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs.

“I should probably be buckling down as well,” Madeleine says through a stretch, then flops back onto Phil’s couch, “You’d think being a more experienced student would make me better at studying, but couches are comfortable and tea is warm.”

“I found the key is to make yourself a hot tea and study on the couch,” Phil says.

“I’ll leave you to your tea and see you next weekend. Hopefully I’ll manage to keep myself clothed next time around.”

“Wait-Dan,” he stops at the sound of Phil’s voice, “Do you know your way back?”

Dan shrugs. He doesn’t, but with a jacket and the light of early evening on his side, he doesn’t think he’ll get lost or cold enough to be in any danger. 

“I’ll find my way back.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Phil is already beside him, toeing on his own shoes before grabbing a couple coats from inside a closet and tossing one at Madeleine who groans, but moves to get her own shoes on. 

“You really don’t need to,” Dan says. He can hear how flat he sounds and it gnaws at his confidence in his facade. 

“Yeah, I know, but someone interrupted my walk last night and I reckon we won’t really be lost if we lose our way together,” Phil’s smile is genuine. Dan feels himself start to melt and his eyes are stinging again, so he clamps down harder against the lid and opens the door.

“Sure.”


	6. Tightrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Careful coffee

Any other day, Dan would feel the weight of their silence and try to fill it. Instead he just follows slightly behind Phil, who doesn't seem bothered so at least it isn't uncomfortable. The air has stilled. There's not so much as a soft breeze as they meander in a general direction. Their breaths become stagnant clouds that they walk through as they move along at a steady pace. They're at it for a while when Dan’s itch to know where they're going needs to be scratched. 

"Are we heading in any particular direction or were you serious about going for a walk?"

Phil turns to Dan and he seems to take a moment to focus on his face, like his mind had wandered too far and he needed a few seconds to make his way back and comprehend what Dan had said. When he arrives, he looks around at where he is, smiles sheepishly, and stops. 

"Well, I planned on heading toward campus when we set out, but I got a little lost in my thoughts and it seems I've brought us to Cafe Nero," he chuckles at himself, "Your bringing it up last night must have seeped the idea into my subconscious."

"You mean when you started drooling over a coffee shop, completely unprompted?" Dan suppresses a smile, but not very well because Phil beams back at him, "You incepted yourself with that one, mate. I wash my hands of any involvement. I was in the midst of a crisis." Phil chuckles as he looks between the sign and the door of the shop, then back at Dan.

"Since we’re here, would you mind popping in for a cupper and giving me some time to warm up? I don't have your human space heater superpowers." Dan laughs.

"Yeah, a'right," he says, "I'll allow it. But you’re paying for mine." 

“Sounds fair,” Phil says and holds the door open for him, which makes Dan laugh.

“What?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Dan says, “You’re just such a gentleman. Either that or Madeleine can’t keep a secret.”

“Okay, firstly, my mum raised me to be polite,” Phil says, “and secondly, Madeleine didn’t reveal any of your secrets and now I desperately need to be let in on this one.”

“My secrets won’t stay secret if I tell them to any ol’ stranger I meet on the street.”

“Well, I would argue that we’re no longer strangers, given the events of the last day.” 

“Touche,” Dan pretends to think for a minute, then slowly leans in closer, far closer to Phil’s ear than is strictly necessary, and whispers, “I’m royalty.”

Phil stares wide-eyed at Dan for a good five seconds before staring blankly into the space beside him. The poor boy doesn’t look like he’s ever going to be able to wrap his head around the idea. He shakes his head in disbelief and meets Dan’s eyes again. This is way too easy.

“Really?” It’s barely a whisper.

Dan just looks at him, fighting a smile, then gives up and fully grins, “No, Phil,” he laughs, “I’m not royalty. Just as much a peasant as you.” 

“Well what makes you think  _ I’m _ not royalty?” Phil asks, feigning indignance.

“Because royals don’t get starstruck when they meet other royals.”

“Touche,” Phil says, then looks uncomfortably at the barista they are slowly approaching, “Hey, will you order while I find us a place to sit?” 

Dan raises an eyebrow in curiosity, “Is the barista an ex or something?”

“Oh, no,” Phil says, “This place just starts getting busy in the afternoon and I want to claim a comfy place before they’re full up.” Dan considers the line, which  _ is _ longer than it was when they arrived, if only marginally.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” Phil turns away and starts walking quickly.

“Wait-Phil!” Dan has to almost yell to get his attention, but Phil turns, “What do you want me to order?”

“Oh… yeah.” Phil hands him a twenty pound note and tells Dan his order before turning to find them a table.

Dan's in a strange liminal space as he waits in line to order their coffees. The longer he's stood waiting to request a caffeine fix for them both (and a muffin for Phil), the longer he's alone without distractions from his thoughts. He doesn't care for it. When Phil or Madeleine were vouching for his attention there was something to keep him distracted from the vast grey space where his emotions usually are. Now he's got nothing to keep him from seeing it and once he sees it, emotions start to bleed through the canvas, painting streaks of color across it. He sighs with relief when it's his turn to order and the minor stress of social interaction helps him press everything back up into a lump of grey clay at the back of his mind. 

He sits down next to Phil on the loveseat he's staked out with another sigh, relaxing his head onto the back of the couch and letting his eyes close as they wait for their coffee. The cold air of incoming winter had drained some of his energy reserves and the heat of the cafe fills his body with the urge to relax into unconsciousness. 

"Thanks for ordering for me," Phil says.

"Thanks for finding a comfy couch."

"Yeah, well, as far as transparent excuses for avoiding social situations go, it's definitely… one of them." Phil laughs uncomfortably. Dan opens an eye to look at him, then shakes his head and laughs louder.

"What?!" Phil looks at Dan, eyes wide and lips pouting, "It's hard to keep an order in your mind and express it clearly and quickly! Especially when there are people breathing down your neck who are equally desperate for caffeine!" He looks over at the lengthening line like it's a dragon that's about to burn him alive. There's genuine anxiety behind his expression and Dan has to work hard to tamp down his instinct to poke fun. 

"No worries, mate," Dan says, still giggling to himself, "It's just funny because I literally do the exact same thing to Mads, like, all the time. She always orders for me when we go out to bars. I pay her back by cooking and cleaning when I stay at her place." Phil relaxes a little and laughs too. 

"So, you're basically a kept man?" Phil is looking at Dan with a sparkle in his eye. It's good to know he doesn't shy away from giving a gentle ribbing, even if he’s obviously sensitive to them. Dan hadn't gotten to speak with Phil much between his physical and mental breakdowns, but he's starting to get the feeling that conversing with Phil might be just as casual as his bants with Mads. 

"Basically," he says, "She took me in under similar circumstances to you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Dan takes a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, uncertain of how much to reveal about his first night in Manchester, "I’d gone out with a new friend who left me for a hookup with Mad's friend. We got completely pissed and I ended up getting sick all over both of us. I don't remember being sick, but in the morning she was naked and I was in my pants in her bed." Phil's eyes are wide.

"Wow."

"Yeah," Dan says again, "We've been inseparable ever since. I basically live at her flat and she takes care of me when I-"  _ fall into a cold dark hole and my ability to move or think or feel anything is stripped away without my consent _ \- "when I get like I was this morning." 

"Yeah," Phil says, "she tried to explain what was happening when you were out of it. I was really glad for her level head cause I was definitely freaking out when she first showed up." 

"Sorry."

"No, don't be," he smiles without pity, "I'm glad you have someone to take care of you when you can't help yourself. I don't deal with what you go through, but there are days when it would be nice to have someone who could help me back to reality." 

Their coffees and Phil's muffin arrive on a tray and the barista asks if they need anything else. Dan tells her they're good and she goes back to her previous position behind the counter. 

“So what exactly did you and Madeleine talk about for eight hours?” Dan says, “she said you called her in the morning and when I snapped out of it you were still talking to each other.”

Phil shifts in his seat, angling his body to partially lean his back against the arm of the couch. He considers Dan’s question for a while. 

“Well, we covered a lot of ground,” is what he eventually comes up with. Dan waits. After a while, Phil sighs, “Honestly, she mostly talked me out of freaking out about everything. Then we just talked about whatever popped into our heads. We took a break to make smoothies at one point.”

“I remember getting one of those.”

“Yeah!” Phil smiles, “Madeleine was so pleased that you had it all. She said you don’t usually have an appetite when you’re like that.” 

“I don’t usually have an anything when I’m like that,” Dan mumbles into his coffee. 

They’re quiet for a while, then Phil, thankfully, breaks the silence.

"So what are you studying?" Phil asks. As grateful as he is for the topic to turn away from the messy emotional stuff, he groans. They stick to lighter topics while they finish their coffee and Dan is glad for the surface-level conversation. It helps to keep the floodgates locked tight. 

He and Phil leave the coffee shop laughing and Phil puts his number into Dan's phone. He wants to hang out sometime and maybe even go out on one of Dan and Madeleine's wild weekend adventures. Dan promises to text him when the act won't cause his fingers to freeze off and they head their separate ways. He's back in familiar territory and Phil has a video to edit. Dan lets the floodgates open a little bit to express his genuine excitement to watch it.

From the outside he probably looks giddy and vibrant, unwavering in his convictions. And that's how it feels.

He's almost perfected this internal dance. It's about finding his balance on a tightrope between expression and repression. Too much of either and he will fall into suffocating sobs or numbness will surround him. It's a dangerous game and he always loses in the end, but once he's flipped the switch and started the round he thrives on his tenuous grasp on reality. It's the only time he feels like he's in control. He won't fall today. 


	7. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirally down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains several explicit scenes. If that's not your jam, then you only need to read the first few paragraphs and the texts between Phil and Madeleine (there are several between the explicit scenes).

His emotions are still an unresolved lump shoved in the back of his mind and idle scrolling is distracting enough to keep it there for a while longer. He feels numb enough to reality that he can pretend they’ll stay locked up forever. His mind is almost a peaceful place when he’s like this. The gifs of ocean waves on his feed echo with a vague memory of their sound and he imagines the push and pull rushing over his brain. It feels nice, cool water lapping at the static. 

Dan’s been sitting at his desk for hours. The sun had set long ago and he had managed to skim over a few of his notes before falling down the pit that is tumblr. His eyes are tired enough that he’s really just admiring the shifting colors as he scrolls idly, trying to ignore the itch digging in his gut. His emotions are pulling at him, threatening to reappear and pull him back into the pain that has always defined his existence. He’s on the verge of falling apart when a notification appears on his phone, an orange mask telling him he has a new message. 

It’s just the distraction he needs to drive the itch from his gut and press back against the swell threatening to overtake him.

*

**Madeleine**

_hey_

_-_

_hey_

_-_

_… hey_

_-_

_…_

_-_

_dan_

_-_

_are you mad at me?_

_-_

_we still on for this weekend?_

*

Dan doesn’t remember the man’s name. It really doesn’t matter. They both went into this with shared expectations and Dan doesn’t like to disappoint. He’s a perfectionist and he has every intention of making this guy’s night absolutely perfect. Every detail will be his to create. Every step will be taken only upon his command. 

“Take off your shirt,” Dan’s voice is calm. He doesn’t hesitate. He knows what he wants. The man peels his shirt off and lets it drop to the floor. He waits without questioning the waiting as Dan takes in the sight of his bare chest. There’s hair, a thicker stretch of it across his chest that tapers into a thin line, then skips over his bellybutton before traveling lower.

“Now your trousers.” The man unbuckles his belt, undoes the button and pulls down the zip before bending over to shimmy his way closer to full nudity. When he stands back up his chest is rising more rapidly and a faint flush is starting to appear around his neck. Dan can see the size of him stretching against the front of his pants and he stares without shame, allowing his desires to play over his face as he takes one slow step forward.

Dan wants to touch him. He wants to run gentle fingers up the man’s chest. He wants to scratch back down and watch as the skin under his fingernails turns from white to red. He wants to grab a fistful of hair and take his time tasting and teasing every inch of exposed skin. He wants to find all the places that make the man gasp and use teeth to make him moan. He wants to suck against his skin and leave a mark that will remind the man of this night every time he looks in the mirror. 

Dan looks back up and into eyes that are full of anticipation.

“Now your pants.” The man’s hands shake slightly as his fingers push between skin and fabric, running along the elastic band as he pulls them down, letting them drop to the floor once they reach his knees. He steps out of one leghole then kicks them away from him. Dan sees his dick twitch when the man looks at Dan expectantly. He can feel the man’s anticipation radiating off of him. He can feel the intensity of his _want_. And Dan will give it to him.

Eventually. 

“Tell me what you want right now.” 

“I want you to touch me.”

“No,” Dan says without hesitation, “Not yet.”

“Please…” 

The man looks pained and his dick twitches again, but he doesn’t move. Dan takes another step toward him and starts to walk slowly around him, taking in every inch of his naked body like he would a sculpture in an art gallery. He stops when he’s facing him again, now close enough that he can feel the man’s body heat radiating off him, his ragged breaths bouncing off Dan’s face. 

“Please,” the man whispers.

“Close your eyes.” The man does so without question. Dan takes his time and circles around him again without touching. When he’s behind the man’s naked form for the third time tonight, he pauses and leans forward. His lips don’t touch, he just breathes slow, even breaths between the man’s shoulder blades, then moves up and around. The man’s breaths grow heavier, but he doesn’t move. Dan takes his time and breathes along every inch of skin on his shoulders, then his neck, before moving to ghost the tip of his tongue against the red skin of the man’s ear. 

That hint of a touch makes the man’s body twitch wildly and he makes a strangled sound of surprise before whispering another, “Please.” Dan leans his lips in until they’re gracing the man’s ear and revels for a moment in the sigh that his prolonged contact elicits. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He barely breathes it, but the man’s whole body shudders and his breath hitches violently. Dan peaks over the man’s shoulder and is pleased to see goose pimples on every inch of his chest and a shiny slick of precome threatening to drip off his flushed cock. 

“Yes,” the man’s voice comes out strangled and sounding sore, “Please.”

*

 **Madeleine** **Phil**

_hey have you heard from Dan recently?_

_no y_

_just havent seen him_

_wat since when?_

_since we were in your flat_

_…_

_last week?_

_yeah_

_well thats_

_not good_

_yeah_

_i mean…_

_he does occasionally disappear_

_but never this long_

_…_

_yeah_

_he said he would text me_

_and he hasnt yet_

_let me know if you hear from him_

_will do_

*

He meets Dan at the door in nothing but joggers and stands aside without a word to let him in. They sneak down the hallway past the flatmate’s room without a word. Once the door has been closed, the man walks right up to Dan and whispers, “I prepped before you got here. I’m ready,” before walking over to the side of the bed and stripping off the one item of clothing he had on before looking at Dan expectantly. There’s a condom and lube set out on the bed, ready to go. Dan can’t help but admire his efficiency.

“On your knees, on the bed,” is all he says. The man turns and crawls up onto the bed on hands and knees. He doesn’t look back as Dan walks up close behind him and undoes his jeans, pulling everything halfway down his thighs. He looks at the man’s stretched hole as it opens and closes around the air, so clearly wanting. He grabs the lube and uses a bit to encourage himself to get fully hard.

“How do you like it?” 

“Fast,” the man sound breathless, “and hard.” Dan takes his lubed hand from his cock and runs his slippery fingers down the man’s crack, stopping behind the man’s balls and rubbing gently. He smirks at the gasp it elicits, eyes hungrily taking in the image of shaking shoulders and arching back. He grabs the condom off the bed and swiftly pulls it on before lining himself up and rubbing his head up and down around the rim. His free hand grasps the man’s ass before running up to the small of his back and pressing gently down. He’s pleased when the man’s arms fold beneath him and he buries his face into the mess of blankets bunched up on the bed. 

“Good boy,” Dan whispers, sliding his hand back to the man’s ass.

Without any further warning, he plunges his dick all the way in and revels in the soft tightness that swallows him without complaint. A choked, high-pitched moan is muffled by the blankets that are now being clutched for dear life. Dan stills his movement, just to let the striking heat of the moment settle around them. He loves this part almost as much as the fucking. Pausing when everything feels raw and waiting for the anticipation of movement to build to the edge of breaking. He lets his head fall back as his smooths his hands over the man’s ass and around to anchor his fingers on his hip bones, pulling himself a little closer with a sharp thrust. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses in a rare instance of weakness before pulling out slowly. Then ramming back in with suck force he can hear their skin smack together. Encouraged by the reaction this elicits, he starts fucking into the man at a hard and fast rhythm, chest heaving, but no sounds coming from his lips. His fingers don’t lose purchase on the man’s hips and with every thrust, the man lets out a small whimper. 

“Can I touch myself?” the man barely manages to choke the words out.

“Not yet.”

*

 **Madeleine** **Phil**

_anything?_

_nope_

_bloody hell_

_its been two weeks_

_im actually really worried_

_hes never gone silent for this long_

_what does it usually mean?_

_that he’s spiraling, probably_

_god i hope not_

_-_

_he can get stuck in his own head_

_and its not always the nicest place_

*

Dan’s standing in the middle of the room with a man on his knees in front of him. Their chests are bare and glistening with sweat. Dan curls his fingers into the man’s hair. He takes a fistful and pulls at the root, loving the resulting moan that causes the man to take him in deeper and faster, until his lips are meeting the hand that’s wrapped around the base of Dan’s cock. Dan keeps his own throat open to avoid making sounds of his own as he watches his cock slide against the inside of the man’s hollowed cheeks for a while before pulling him off and forcing the man’s face up to look at him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I want you to fuck my mouth while I touch myself.” Dan doesn’t let his expression change as moves his free hand to cup the man’s cheek. Dan’s trousers and pants are around his ankles. He’s more naked than he usually likes to be, but his current partner is nothing but bare flesh and submissive honesty and that places him firmly in control of the situation. Looking into the man’s blown pupils, he knows that’s what they both want. “I want you to come in my mouth. 

Dan nods once and keeps eye contact as the man’s mouth sinks back over him. 

*

 **Madeleine** **Phil**

_im worried about him_

_its been three weeks_

_and his dormmates haven’t seen him_

_maybe hes just…_

_focusing on finals?_

_god i hope so_

_did he ever text you?_

_not yet_

_whats his number?_

*

Dan keeps one hand on the man’s chest, fingers spread wide and palm pressing firmly to keep him from sitting up, as he rubs and presses a lubed finger insistently, desperately around the man’s rim. Dan runs the tip of his tongue from the base of his cock up before settling his lips around the head and sucking violently as his finger slides in. 

This guy’s vocal, spouting encouragements and curses between gasped breaths. Dan could do without it. He doesn’t need to be told his fingers or mouth are heavenly. Flattery has never made his gut twist or his toes curl. He’s got two fingers in now, diligently sucking as a distraction so the man will loosen up faster, and searching for that spot that will hopefully make him shut the fuck up. 

When he finds it, the guy sucks in a breath and doesn’t make a single sound. Dan can feel the tightness around his fingers widening and slamming shut. He’s being pulled off the man’s cock to look into suddenly hungry eyes. 

“Fuck me.” Dan is only too happy to comply. 

*

**Phil**

_hey dan, its phil_

_got your number off mads_

_-_

_hows christmas break?_

_-_

_mads invited me to go out again_

_want to join?_

*

Dan’s naked in bed with another man and it’s glorious to be this exposed and open. He has one hand splayed against the stomach of the man laid flat under him. His other hand keeps a solid hold on the man’s dick as he sinks slowly down. He lets go once he’s gotten it in and relaxes against the feeling of being opened. His hands wander around the man’s stomach and chest before he leans forward. Dan grabs desperately at the sheets on either side of the man’s head and intensifies his stare, letting his desire burn through. 

He starts moving his hips, grinding forward and backwards for a while, just feeling himself stretch around the man’s pulsing cock. He feels hands brushing against his skin, down his chest, over his hips, around his waist, over his shoulder blades. He lets himself be pulled down, chests pressing together. 

The man’s hands come back down until his thumbs rest in the bend between Dan’s hip and thigh. Dan lifts his hips off the man just a bit and sucks in a breath when the man’s hips rise up to fill him again. And again. And again. Thrusting into him slowly, but getting faster and faster until they’re both breathing heavy and Dan pushes his fingers into the man’s hair and closes his fists around the soft strands. More thrusting and tugging and Dan uses the grip he has to push himself upright, keeping his hips poised over the man’s hungry thrusts as they start to stutter. He untangles his left hand from the man’s hair and brings it to his aching cock, stroking frantically and biting his lip. The sensations in and on him bring him closer and closer to the brink. 

The man’s suddenly completely silent and thrusting deep and staying there, fingers digging in around Dan’s waist. Dan feels the condom fill with warmth inside him. Then the man’s grunting and rutting jagged thrusts into him and it’s all so hot and unbridled and raw that a Dan’s breaths stop and he’s falling over the edge and coming hard, fist squeezing around his base and milking himself slowly through it. 

When the waterfall of pleasure quiets to a babble he pulls himself off the man and steps back into his clothes. He leaves without a word and doesn’t look back.

*

 **Madeleine** **Phil**

_we going out for new years?_

_I kinda need the distraction_

_yeah, me too_

_where are we going?_

_well_

_i had an idea_

_yeah?_

_like what?_

_How do you feel about clubs?_

_they can be fun_

_cant dance tho_

_im too dangerous_ _  
_

_How do you feel about gay clubs?_


	8. The Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encounters

He hasn’t done this before, preferring the degree of separation afforded by apps designed for hookups. He likes being able to skip past the awkward conversations that happen when you pick someone up in real life. He likes walking into someone else’s flat knowing exactly what they want and expect of him. 

He sees familiar faces as he looks around the club. It surprises him how many of the guys roaming around have tasted his cock. They all clearly recognise him and some of them let the eye contact linger or break it to let their eyes roam over his body. He feels powerful and so incredibly in control of every non-verbal conversation he has as he catches each pair of eyes. He makes his way to the bar. He’d had a couple of drinks at the bars he found on his way here, just to lessen his anxiety and loosen his movements. 

He’s coming into this night without expectations. When he started his quest to fuck his emotions into silence, he needed to be in control of each and every interaction. Opening himself to someone else was unthinkable. Now he’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t much mind which position he takes. He still needs to be in control of the situation, but whether he’s on top or bottom isn’t an issue anymore. 

The last time he’d been in this club he’d run out into the street, afraid of discovery. Now he’s not worried about what anyone will think, especially his dormmates. He probably won’t ever see them again, so it doesn’t matter. If he sees any of them here, he thinks, they’ll probably be more afraid that he’ll discover  _ their _ secret. 

He makes his way to the bar and leans his elbows against it, looking over the crowd again. There are several eyes that flick to and from him with desire, but no one approaches him. He was always clear that it was his pleasure to engage with them (or not) and despite the clear  _ want _ in some of their eyes, they know better than to approach him without an invitation. 

He turns his back to the room and looks for the bartender. It’s the same one that was working the last time he was here. Emo fringe and striking blue eyes. He’s wearing a deliciously thin, white u-neck that dips down low enough to reveal his hairless chest. Maybe he’ll try for the bartender tonight. He didn’t notice it last time he was here, but he’s definitely giving Dan  _ the eyes _ . Dan crooks his finger to draw him in. He puts his lips to the bartender’s ear and whispers, “Fancy a blowjob?” in such a way that it could be interpreted as an offer or a drink order. 

The guy’s cheeks are a little flushed when he pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips. He turns around and pours amaretto, kahlua, and bailey’s into a shot glass, adding a generous layer of whipped cream to the top with a flourish. He’s still smirking when he turns back around and sets it on the bar in front of Dan. 

Dan lets the smile fall from his face and keeps eye contact as he leans down to the shotglass and licks around the rim before curving his tongue under the dollop of cream. He stares into widening pupils, watching blue irises shrink into a thin ring, and tilts his head up a bit, exposing his neck so the bartender can clearly see as he swallows. He licks his lips, pulling the bottom one briefly between his teeth, before relaxing them open and bending back down to softly wrap them around the rim of the shot glass. 

They don’t break eye contact as he stands to let the liquor run into his mouth. The slight flush of the bartender’s cheeks spreads down to his chest, which is moving more rapidly. Dan sets the shot glass down and leans against the bar. Their eyes are locked together until the bartender leans into Dan’s ear, gently pulling his earlobe between his teeth before whispering, “My shift ends at three.” Dan responds with a smirk and a small nod.

“Dan?” the voice is familiar, like a distant memory from a forgotten time. Dan turns slowly and takes a moment to recognize the brunette hair and almost-black eyes of Madeleine. 

“Mads?” She rushes forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek into his chest. She pushes him away before he has time to return the embrace, then punches him in the arm.

“Motherfucker!” she yells, then wraps her arms around his neck, one hand sneaking up and into his hair, “I’ve been so worried about you. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Dan stands there awkwardly, unmoving. His arm is throbbing gently where she hit him and the dam in his mind is dangerously close to breaking from just her touch. He puts his hands on her waist and gently pushes her away.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Madeleine looks confused by the physical rejection and the question. Her eyebrows come together.

“What do you mean?” she asks incredulously, open palms moving up and down in front of her as she raises one eyebrow, “I’m a lesbian. This is a gay bar. This is where we go.” 

“Right.” There’s movement behind her and he looks up and is surprised to see Phil… hanging on some guy’s arm. They’re headed toward the bar, faces close and smiling at each other. The guy’s a little shorter than Phil, but he’s well fit. And slightly familiar. 

Phil looks up and sees Dan, whose heart is suddenly trying frantically to beat its way out of his chest again. A smile breaks over Phil’s face as his hand slides down the guy’s arm and into his hand. Phil’s pulling the guy over toward where he and Madeleine are standing. Dan feels frozen and he doesn’t understand why. He’d been confident and comfortable just a moment ago and now he’s struggling to breathe. A wave of memories flood into his mind and he’s pulled back into the past and reliving every hurt and laugh he’s ever experienced in the few seconds it takes for Phil to make it to the bar. 

“Dan?” Phil looks over at the guy whose hand he’s holding, surprised.

“Do you know each other?” Phil asks, looking between him and Dan. Dan looks at the guy’s face and his mind whispers,  _ I prepped before you got here. I’m ready,  _ as the memory of one of his conquests starts playing in his mind. The guy seems to remember at the exact same time the nature of their first encounter and instantly blushes, looking down at the floor. Dan lets a mask of calm fall across his features.

“Not really,” Dan says, “We met a couple months ago- briefly.” 

Loaded silence follows. Madeleine is looking between the three boys, but mostly at Dan who is intentionally avoiding eye contact with her. 

“Well, how have you been?” Phil asks with a smile at Dan, “You had Mads and I worried sick.”

“Sorry,” his voice sounds wooden through his teeth, “Been busy.” He finally looks at Madeleine, who is staring at him with such intensity that he knows he should be shrinking away from her gaze, casting his eyes to the floor in shame. Maybe he would have a few months ago, but the grey lump of his emotions feels like a shriveled ball at the back of his mind and he wants to keep it that way. He likes the person he is for the first time in his life and he refuses to go back. 

“Why don’t you boys get us some drinks and find us a table,” Madeleine says without breaking eye contact with Dan, “Dan and I will join you shortly.” Dan can feel Phil’s eyes on him, can feel the questions he wants to ask.

“Yeah, alright,” Phil says, “C’mon, Ben.” 

Madeleine reaches for Dan’s wrist, then she’s dragging him out of the door, her bangled wrist jangling, her heels clicking. The reminder of that time when he was so vulnerable and scared is almost enough to bring everything to a boil in his mind and he rips his wrist out of her grasp.

“What do you want, Mads?” He’s struggling to keep a lid on his emotions, so he sets his mouth in a hard line and he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“What do I want? What the fuck, Dan!” Mads is fuming. She struggles for a few seconds, trying and failing to get any coherent words out, “Busy? Fucking busy?! I go to the same fucking school as you and I wasn’t too busy to text you every damn day for weeks!” 

“You don’t,” Dan says coldly, “I dropped out.” 

Madeleine looks at him in shocked silence. When she finally speaks she’s not yelling anymore.

“Why the fuck would you do that? You were passing every class.”

“I failed my finals.”

“What, all of them?” she mirrors his crossed arms and looks dubious.

“Yeah,” he looks at her, waiting for her to make her next move. Ready to hit back against every verbal attack she throws his way. When she doesn’t return his glare and doesn’t speak for a while, he sighs, “Was that all? I’d like to get back to my night out, if you don’t mind. I  _ was _ having a good time.” He wants to shrink back from the harsh bite of the words he just said. He wants to take them back, but they’re already hanging in the air between them.

She doesn’t look at him and doesn’t say anything. The only time she shifts is when she brings her thumb up to her teeth and gnaws distractedly at her nail. 

Dan waits. 

He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, but he can’t bring himself to just turn around and leave her there. She looks hurt and confused and a deep instinct in Dan is urging him to wrap his arms around her and tell her it’s going to be alright, but he doesn’t even know what’s wrong and-

Goddammit! He doesn’t fucking  _ care _ what she’s going through. He doesn’t need to be reminded of all the bullshit he’d been going through when they met. He’s moved on. He’s better off now than he was then and he’s not going back to being the sorry sack of shit that was sick all over her and in such deep denial of his sexuality that he had to be blackout drunk to secretly confess it. He hates that version of himself. He was a sniveling, immature child who was too scared to go after the things he actually wanted. 

He feels in control for the first time in his life and he won’t let her take that away from him. 

“What the fuck do you want, Mads!?” he yells, blood pumping and hands shaking at his sides.

She looks up at him and he can see tears in her eyes. She’s looking at him like she’s in pain and he’s the cause of it. Dan feels something inside him start to thaw and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t try to prevent the ice from cracking.

“I was so fucking worried about you, Dan,” she whispers. She doesn’t blink, but a tear falls down her face, turning into a grey streak as it passes through her mascara. He remembers the image of her rushing to his rescue when he was backed against a wall by some douchebags. He remembers her far more disheveled appearance the next morning, when she explained that she had been hurt by people too. She sniffs and rubs her hand across each cheek, then looks at the black smear that had appeared there. 

“Fuck,” she says quietly, “Look, you’ve gone and mussed up my face, you twat.” Dan huffs a small laugh. 

“It’s not fucking funny, Daniel,” she whines, wiping at her cheeks some more, but she’s laughing weakly as well. 

They stand there without saying anything for a while. They stand there without talking until the air grows thick with all the words they wanted to say, but haven’t. Dan’s not ready to say any of them. He’s not sure he ever will be. He wants to talk to his best friend. He’s not sure where to start. He’s scared that once the words start spilling out he won’t be able to stop them. He’s scared that once he starts talking all the things he’s been pushing to the back of his brain will break through and he’ll be reduced to a slug of sobbing emotions. He wants her to hold him as he falls apart. 

He doesn’t want to fall apart.

Madeleine reaches out and punches him in the arm again.

“Ow!” Dan rubs over the offended area, “What was that for?”

“For being a dick and not responding to any of my texts,” she says simply and without malice, “Don’t you ever,  _ ever _ ignore me like that again. I don’t give a toss if you’re busy, you always make time for me, you got it?” She’s staring daggers into his eyes.

“Yeah, Jesus, alright,” he says, still rubbing his arm. Madeleine sighs.

“C’mon,” she says, holding her hand out to him, “Those lovebirds have probably already finished our drinks as well as their own by now. We need to go catch up.” Dan takes her hand and their fingers fold together like no time has passed.

“Fine, but I can’t get too pissed,” Dan says, “Gotta be sober enough to get it up.”

“Oh yeah, for who?” Madeleine raises an eyebrow.

“The bartender.”

“You fucking minx.”

“You’re just jealous of my sexual prowess.”

“Forsooth, your highness! The lads of the land all sing songs of praise to your magical cock!”

“I know you think you’re taking the piss, but yeah,” Dan says, looking at Madeleine out of the corner of his eye, “They do.” Madeleine hums skeptically. Dan remembers something, then hesitates. Madeleine stops, seemingly still able to sense when he’s withholding something. Their hands are still linked, so Dan is forced to stop too and he scratches the back of his neck without looking at her. 

“What’s that face for?” she asks.

“What face?” Madeleine makes a circle with her finger in the air, framing his features.

“That guilty awkward face,” she squints her eyes at him, “What have you done.” Well, there’s no point denying it. Mads is a bloodhound when she senses something scandalous. Dan takes a deep breath and sighs it out before meeting Madeleine’s glare.

“Pretty sure I fucked Phil’s boyfriend.”


	9. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution

They spend the night drinking and talking. Madeleine clinging to Dan almost as much as Phil is clinging to Ben. It feels at once incredibly casual and somehow tense. It's been so long since Dan has seen or talked with Mads, but their comfort in each others touches hasn't faded over the months of radio silence. 

There are many times Dan looks over and catches Madeleine looking at him, eyes full of questions, but she quickly averts her gaze once she's been caught out. He can tell there are a lot of things she's left unsaid and he's not ready to face her yet. He's not ready to break down. He knows he took things too far this time. He knows that when he opens himself up to her it's going to rip him to pieces. 

He hasn't had a depressive episode since that day in Phil's flat. He's been pushing through everything, pushing everything back for so long that when he finally turns to let the events of the last few months catch up with him, he's not sure he'll be strong enough to survive the fallout. 

He knows it will need to happen sooner than later. He knows that the longer he tries to put it off, the worse it will be. A part of him wants to grab Madeleine's hand and pull her back to the safety of her flat and tell her everything, but he's terrified. He's scared she'll reject him. He's scared she'll judge him. He's scared of the black ice building up inside of him with every second he spends continuing to avoid it all. 

He almost wants to go back to that night in Phil's bed and restart his life from there. He wants to do things differently. He wants to go back and slap himself in the face. He wants to tell his past self not to flip the switch and cut everyone out. 

He looks over at Phil, who has Ben muttering something in his ear. It must be something good because Phil is smiling big and bright and he's so beautiful. Dan's eyes go wide and he feels his cheeks flush as he looks down into his drink.

_ Beautiful? _ He hasn't thought of anyone in such a gentle way for a long time. He's gotten so used to thinking exclusively through his base desires with words like  _ hot, fit,  _ and  _ fuckable _ . What fucking right does his brain have to hit him with a word like  _ beautiful _ while he's looking at someone who wouldn't be interested in him even if they were single. 

Well… he has to admit that Phil is proper fit. And quite hot. Dan's brain cringes away from describing him as  _ fuckable _ though. It feels wrong to apply such a vulgar term to someone like Phil. 

Dan shakes his head, trying to stop this line of thinking before it goes any further. His thoughts had just proven to him that he has no business being near someone like Phil. Phil doesn't deserve to be subjected to the steady stream of shit that defines Dan's daily existence. Dan has no right to even  _ think _ of Phil as  _ beautiful _ . He didn't deserve Phil's kindness before and he definitely doesn't deserve the kind smiles Phil has been giving Dan every time their eyes meet. 

To distract himself from the slowly building swell of emotions threatening to break him, he pulls out his phone and is surprised to see it's five to three. His eyes automatically shift to the bar, searching through the slightly thinner crowd until he sees him flipping bottles and filling glasses. After a few minutes of watching him dance with liquor and polite smiles and flips of his fringe, their eyes meet and he gives Dan a smirk that implies nothing polite. 

Dan turns back to the people currently keeping him company. His eyes land on Madeleine as he contemplates all the different ways his night could end. He should spend the night at Mads getting way too drunk while they cry and yell at each other and catch up. They'd probably end up mostly naked and snuggling, licking each others' wounded hearts. If he fell into that deep dark hole again, she would be there to make him smoothies and keep him wrapped in blankets. 

He shivers. He knows what he  _ should _ do, but the fear… the fear of falling is too great. He's at the edge of that precipice, but maybe he can keep himself from falling for just one more night. Maybe he can keep himself together long enough to enjoy his last night free of the anguish that found him in Phil's bed all those long nights ago. 

He looks at Madeleine until she feels his eyes upon her, then leans in and tells her he'll text her tomorrow, but he has to go now. He doesn't meet her eyes as he pulls away and turns to head for the door, keeping eye contact with the bartender until he exits. 

*

His throat feels raw as he makes his way through the streets. The cold isn’t helping. Every breath reminding him of what he had just done. Why had he thought a meaningless hookup would make him feel better? Why does he always default to being a fucking coward? 

He should have sent those messages to Phil last year. Phil probably would have responded and maybe his time working at ASDA would have been a little more bearable. Maybe that connection would have prevented his downward spiral. He had never told Mads how dark things got during that year of loneliness. Why does he insist on keeping the people who could care about him at a distance? Why does he push away the people who already care for him? 

Madeleine doesn’t deserve to be pushed away because Dan doesn’t like dealing with his own shit. She deserves a friend who will be there for her and not fall off the face of the earth when it hits the fan. 

He doesn’t even realize where his feet have taken him when they stop walking. He’s still lost in thought as he knocks on the door. 

“Dan?” Dan looks up and is completely confused by the ruffled hair and tired eyes of the person stood in front of him. 

“Phil?” Dan looks around and, yep, he’s found his way to Madeleine’s flat after months of avoiding this neighborhood, “Sorry, um… I was looking for Madeleine.” He hears a sigh from behind Phil and the door.

“It’s alright, darling,” Madeleine’s voice is saying, “You can let fuckface in.” 

Phil looks back to where Madeleine must be, then at Dan before letting the door swing open and standing to the side to let him through. Dan takes a tentative step over the threshold and sees Madeleine sat in the corner of her couch. She’s wearing a loose nightshirt and her legs are covered by a fluffy blanket. She’s clutching a mug of steaming tea and her eyes are rimmed with red. She’s not crying now, but she must have been recently. Her face is a little splotchy and her knees are pulled up into her chest. 

They don’t say anything as Phil closes the door behind Dan, then makes his way silently into the kitchen. There’s a clinking sound and the flow of hot water and Phil comes back out with another mug of tea, which he holds out in front of Dan. 

“Thanks,” Dan says, sheepishly making brief eye contact with Phil, then shifting awkwardly where he’s stood looking at the floor. Madeleine sighs again and Phil sits right next to her, grabbing his own steaming mug from the coffee table and leaning their shoulders together as he takes a sip. 

“I’m sorry, Mads,” Dan says and forces himself to look at her. She’s looking into her mug.

“Did you have fun with the bartender?” it’s barely more than a whisper and her voice breaks over a few of the words.

“No,” Dan says, moving to set his mug down on the coffee table. He places his knees on the floor directly in front of her and sits back on his ankles. Madeleine isn’t looking directly at him, but he’s positioned himself within her view, so he knows she can see him, “I should have stayed. I should have come home with you. I know I should have. I know I should have responded to your texts or let you know what was going on. I just-” he looks down at his knees.

In his mind, he’s floundering. Still too numb for tears to come to his eyes, but he knows they’ll come soon. He needs to explain himself before he falls apart. He needs Mads to know that it’s not her fault. That he’s just fucked up. That maybe he’ll always be fucked up and maybe there’s no fixing him. She needs to know that he loves her and doesn’t deserve her. 

“I’m just sorry.” There’s too much to say and words just sound like excuses. 

“Fuck you and your fucking puppy dog face,” Dan looks up and Mads is trying to contain a smile, “You never play fair, do you?” Dan can’t help but chuckle. It sounds a little hollow, but he’s genuinely relieved that she doesn’t seem to actually hate him. 

Madeleine hands her mug to Phil and unfolds her legs, placing her feet on the floor. Then she’s pulling Dan forward, crushing his face into her chest. That’s when the tears hit him. He lets out a choked sob and wraps his arms around her waist. He chants a mantra of  _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry _ between gasps of air. Eventually the tears are all used up and his breathing settles back into a more regular rhythm. 

“Alright, alright,” Madeleine is pushing back on his shoulders and looking him in the eyes, suddenly serious, “We have a lot to talk about and I expect you to tell me  _ every single detail _ , but it’s four in the morning and I’ve been crying, so I need sleep and you’re required to cuddle me.” 

“Yeah, I would like that,” Dan giggles, nodding as he wipes his face off on the sleeves of his jumper. Madeleine’s hand moves to rest on Phil’s knee and Dan looks up, having forgotten there was another person in the room. 

“I know you have someone waiting for you,” Madeleine says, “But I would love it if you would stay as well. I think there’s just enough room for the three of us on my queen.” Phil shrugs. 

“Yeah, I may have already told Ben I was staying over here,” he says with a smirk.

“You presumptuous bastard,” Mads attempts to punch his shoulder, but they’re all so tired that it’s more of a push. Phil still falls dramatically onto the couch, hand to his chest.

“Abuse,” Phil mumbles halfheartedly, most of his face obscured by the cushions. 

“Alright, children,” Dan says, standing up and grabbing their hands, tugging gently until they both stand up, “it’s bedtime, lets go.” 

“You’re not my real dad!” Madeleine yells, dragging her feet. Phil giggles uncontrollably as they make their way down the hallway and into Madeleine’s room. Dan looks at him sternly.

“What’s so funny, young man?” Phil’s giggles turn into a kind of snort-hiss. Then he locks eyes with Dan, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

“Daddy.” 

There’s a moment of complete silence, then all three of them break into raucous laughter. They all have tears in their eyes and Madeleine has to escape to use the toilet because she’s laughing so hard. Once she leaves, he and Phil quiet into gentle chuckles. 

“Hey Phil,” Dan says with a sudden realisation, “Thank you.” Phil tilts his head to the side. He’s still smiling, but his eyebrows have creased together.

“For what?” 

“I guess,” Dan shrugs, “For taking care of Mads while I was, you know… and for taking care of me when I was a drunk stranger.” 

Phil smiles as he takes a step forward and pulls him into an embrace. He feels so warm and familiar and safe. Dan shifts his face into the place between Phil’s shoulder and neck, burrowing his forehead there as his hands move up his back to rest on Phil’s shoulder blades and squeeze him a little closer. Phil’s hands slide to the small of his back and it feels like they’re holding each other up. Dan feels grounded for the first time in months. 

“Alright, lads, break it up,” Madeleine says as she comes back into the room, “and take your clothes off. This is a skivvies-only cuddle party.” Dan snorts, but starts to undress. Once he’s down to his pants he crawls into Madeleine’s bed and lifts the duvet for Madeleine to climb in next to him. She’s only got pants on as well and she snuggles her bare chest into his, flopping a leg over his waist and an arm over his chest. Phil comes in right after, pushing his chest to Madeleine’s back and draping his arm over both of them. Dan’s settles the duvet over them all and rests his hand on the skin of Phil’s back. 

There’s a lot of empty space left on the bed behind both Dan and Phil, but none of them feel the need to pull apart from each other. Madeleine sighs contentedly and it takes mere minutes for their breaths to even out. Dan feels at peace as he slips into unconsciousness. 

*

Dan wakes up warm and comfortable. There’s bare skin against his chest and a cocoon of blankets surrounding him. One arm is trapped under the person in front of him and the other is draped around their waist. In his weary state, he tilts his face and brushes a kiss between shoulder blades, flattening his hand against their stomach and pulling them in closer. 

“Good morning, Dan,” a deep chuckle vibrates against his chest and Dan takes a few more seconds to pull himself into wakefulness. His eyes fly open as Phil turns his head to look at him. 

“Phil,” Dan blinks, then gingerly moves to extricate himself from their entwined state, “Sorry, I thought you were Mads.” He sits up and stretches making a rather undignified noise as his muscles tense and relax back into place. Phil chuckles again.

“Are you entirely sure you two aren’t a couple?” Phil says as he rolls onto his back and stretches as well. His eyes are a little puffy and his hair is a mess and his torso is completely exposed. Dan’s brain betrays him by pointing out that Phil is beautiful in the morning, “Cause that’s approximately the way that Ben wakes me up in the morning.” 

“Really? He seemed the little spoon type to me,” Dan says without thinking. He feels his eyes widen and his cheeks warm and it takes a conscious effort for him to try and set his face into a more neutral expression, “Anyway, no. Mads and I are actually probably so comfortable with each other  _ because _ we don’t want to sleep with each other.” Phil hums, closing his eyes. Without his consent, Dan’s eyes journey down Phil’s chest, picking out freckles and dips and curves and that deliciously teasing trail of hair that travels across his chest, thinning on its way down below the covers.

Dan snaps his eyes shut and shakes his head, then runs his hands over his face. These are not appropriate thoughts to be having right now. His brain is just tired and his emotions are shot and he wasn’t expecting to wake up intertwined with Phil. He looks at his hands as they drop from his face and come to rest in his lap. The sun emerges from behind the winter clouds and bathes the room in a golden glow. Phil’s hand comes into view and folds itself into Dan’s. It fits perfectly and is still too warm from being trapped under the covers. 

“You okay?” Phil’s pupils are pinpricks, the vibrant blue of his irises washed out by the sunlight cast across his face. Looking into them, Dan gets lost for several minutes. He looks until the sun disappears behind the clouds, washing the world in a blue-grey darkness and his vision begins to blur. 

“No,” he croaks, using his free hand to rub at his eyes, trying to push back the wetness beginning to form there, “Things have been kinda shit. And it’s going to be hard to fix everything I’ve managed to muck up.” He fills his lungs and releases his breath unsteadily. Everything feels so raw and sensitive and uncertain and it’s terrifying, but for the first time in months Dan has woken up safe and comfortable. 

“It’s worth it though,” Phil says drearily, his eyes falling closed again, “to put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, “Definitely.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... now's the part where you have to be patient with me. I'm in the process of writing the next chapter and will try my darndest to get one out every week. I'm not sure which day will be posting day as I'm about to get back into school and I'm not sure what my schedule will look like. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to @Nekia @chaotic phan @Onyx_Stardust @Completely figurative for being the most amazing betas/brit-pickers I could possibly ask for. Thank you for your words of encouragement and constructive criticism.

Phil’s breathing slows as he falls back to sleep and Dan allows his eyes to wander over his bare chest for a moment. He can feel his pulse quicken and he struggles to catch his breath. He still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that the guy sleeping next to him, the man he had woken up spooning, is AmazingPhil. He knew Phil lived in Manchester, but he never imagined they would run into each other. He never imagined they would wake up together. It feels like a dream.

Not that it happens to mean anything more than when he wakes up spooning Madeleine. Hell, he’s woken up cradling her chest before and it wasn’t… too weird. Maybe a little weird until Madeleine fondled him back and they dissolved into giggles. And Dan’s sleepy brain hadn’t done anything too weird when waking up next to Phil. A chaste kiss between shoulder blades and a little snuggle as he was coming back to consciousness. He would have done the same thing to Madeleine and they both would have sighed into it. 

Just cause he’s AmazingPhil and fit and damn his torso goes on for ages-

Dan shakes his head to get his brain off that train of thought. It’s not weird. It’s not weird… right? 

Okay, maybe it’s a little weird. 

Dan shuffles off the bed, trying to keep the jostling to a minimum, and pulls on the clothes he wore last night, trying not to remember what he had done in them. He glances at Phil as he’s walking out of the room and pauses. There’s gooseflesh all across Phil’s torso. He walks hesitantly, quietly back over to the bed and lifts the duvet up over Phil’s exposed chest, letting it settle gently down. Phil tenses as the settling blanket rushes cold air over him, but once everything has settled his creased brow softens and his muscles visibly relax back into the mattress. 

It is the cutest goddamn thing Dan has seen in his entire life. 

Before his brain can think any more inappropriate thoughts, he rushes out the room and makes his way through the flat, which is unsettlingly empty of Madeleine. He makes a quick stop at the toilet and then texts Mads on his way to the kitchen. He’s still exhausted and it’s technically well past lunch, but time is a social construct and he’s just woken up, so he wants breakfast. 

Dan weighs his options. He could go for a simple bowl of cereal. It’s easy and quick and his tired body would love the lack of effort, but it’s not a very satisfying meal and his stomach feels sensitive from a late night with too much alcohol and not much else. He opens the fridge to see what else he could make. It might be more effort, but eating a hot meal would just be… so fucking good. He closes the fridge with a sigh, abandoning the very idea of food in favor of a caffeine breakfast that requires the bare minimum of effort. Maybe Madeleine is out getting them food.

He hears Phil’s muffled voice coming from the closed bedroom door and decides to put the kettle on so they can both have some coffee. He’s not usually a fan of coffee, but tea doesn’t feel like it will be enough today. A door opens and Phil’s voice is clearer. He’s laughing.

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll tell him,” a door closes and Phil’s voice is muffled again as Dan sets the kettle on the hob and clicks the stove on. Dan holds his hand over the kettle and lets the ambient heat push the cold from his fingers. The heating in Madeleine’s flat doesn’t seem to be enough to keep the cold out today. There’s the beginnings of a metaphor forming somewhere in Dan’s mind as the thought floats across the tired white of sleepiness still clinging to the corners.

The sound of a flushing toilet interrupts his fruitless musing. Phil comes into the kitchen moments later. His hair is unkempt, sticking up and folded over, totally unlike the usually perfectly mussed, straight style Dan’s used to seeing in his videos. He’s wearing a green York hoodie and red and black plaid pajama bottoms. Despite having recently seen him nakedly sprawled across a bed, Dan can’t help but feel uncomfortable seeing Phil this casual. 

Of course Phil would wake up looking tired and messy. Of course Phil cleans himself up and spends some extra time on his appearance for his videos. Seeing him rubbing the tired out of his eyes and dressed down breaks some kind of spell that Dan didn’t even realize he was under. Phil’s just some guy walking around and living his life. 

Dan spends a moment taking in the puffy eyes and hint of stubble, trying to get his brain to adjust out of all the assumptions he had made about Phil based on the content he created. He couldn’t stop himself smiling at the mismatched socks that were a strange bridge between AmazingPhil and the Phil Lester stood in front of him before taking in the rest of his outfit again. He definitely wasn’t wearing that last night.

“So do you have a secret drawer of clothes here or something?” Dan asks, gesturing at Phil’s outfit as he gets out a couple mugs and a tin of instant coffee. Phil looks down at himself in confusion, then shrugs. 

“Not really,” Phil says, “but between staying over fairly often and Mads nicking my warm stuff when she forgets a jacket.” He shrugs again. Dan feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth and he can’t help but ask.

“So how long have you two been together?” Phil looks up at him, eyebrows creased, before he sees Dan’s wry smile and huffs out a dry laugh. 

“You’re funny,” he says, “So, what’s for breakfa-awwwst?” Phil’s yawns. Now it’s Dan’s turn to shrug.

“Coffee?” Dan says as he spoons the powder into the mugs, adding two sugars to one of them. It’s been months, but Dan finds comfort in the fact that he still knows where things are kept in Madeleine’s flat.

“I meant breakfast  _ food _ ,” Phil says, moving to settle himself down at the little kitchen table, “but, if you’re offering, then yeah.” 

At that exact moment, the kettle starts screaming and Dan turns off the stove. He pours the hot water into the prepped mugs and tops them both off with a splash of milk. A couple quick stirs and he’s headed over to sit next to Phil. 

“Thanks,” Phil says and immediately brings the mug to his lips, blowing quickly before sipping and humming in satisfaction, “Also, Mads is out at a job interview. She’ll be back soon and she’s requested that you, and I quote, ‘make your world famous Delia Smith pancakes’ end quote.” There’s a smile playing on Phil’s lips and Dan just groans. 

“But I just sat down!” he whinges, leaning back and sinking down off his chair. He’s feeling extra dramatic this morning, so he lets his body slide all the way onto the floor, rolling so he’s flat on his stomach between the table and his chair. Phil chuckles.

“Alright down there, mate?” Dan groans in response. He’ll get up and make the fucking pancakes, but he’ll wallow on the ground just a bit longer, if only to prove a point. 

“I haven’t been properly caffeinated,” he whinges some more, voice muffled against the floor, “Don’t wanna.” 

“Well you’re not likely to get any caffeine off the floor,” Phil says, prodding him with a foot stretched under the table. 

Dan groans again, but pushes himself off his stomach and makes a show of crawling his way back up the chair until he’s standing. He picks up his coffee and saunters drearily back to the fridge to fish out eggs and milk. He pilfers the pantry and cupboards until he finds the remaining necessary items, then sets about making enough pancakes for at least three people. A chair scrapes across the floor and Dan turns to see Phil heading his way, coffee in hand.

“Can I help?” Phil asks. Dan’s immediate reaction is to refuse. He doesn’t really need help and he’s used to having to fend for himself. It feels wrong to ask. 

But he’s not asking. Phil is offering and he looks so excited by the prospect of pancakes made from scratch. There’s a giddiness behind his eyes and a hint of a smile. If Phil were a child, Dan has no doubt that he would be grinning and jumping up and down… which is a weird thought. Phil’s older than him and a semi-celebrity and his eyes are so blue and unblinking in a way that feels attentive and focused. 

Dan is reminded again that this isn’t AmazingPhil, it’s just Phil. And Phil wants to help him make pancakes. He’s not sure when he started smiling, but he lets it linger as he shakes his head and huffs out a laugh. 

“Sure, Phil,” he says, “You’re on topping duty. Find us everything we could possibly want to put on these mad lads and get out some plates.” 

Phil tenses in excitement as he turns to go to the pantry. Dan’s traitorous brain enjoys the view as he walks away. 

To distract himself, he sifts the flour, makes a well and cracks in the eggs. Phil walks around the room, opening cabinets and cupboards and making a stack of toppings on the kitchen table. Whisk whisk whisk. Phil seems to be comfortable as he flits around the kitchen. He’s searching with purpose, like he knows what’s there and exactly where it is. Add milk and water. Nearly all the cupboards are left open as Phil goes to the fridge and rifles around some more. Whisk whisk whisk. Phil must have spent a lot of time here for him to be this comfortable and confident in his search. Dan puts a pan on the stove and starts it heating up as he gets a stick of butter out the fridge. He feels uneasy, realising it’s been months since he’s been here. He still knows where things are but he feels suddenly uncomfortable, confronted by the reality of his prolonged absence and uncertain of his place in Madeleine’s life. 

Maybe she’s replaced him. Phil is kinder and gentler and his smiles come easily. Maybe Dan was just a warm body at a time when they were both lonely and vulnerable. Phil is surely a better friend to her than he could ever be. Phil wouldn’t disappear for months on end because his emotions had shut off. He rubs the stick of butter against the pan, then ladles in a scoop of batter. 

“So you and Mads seem to be close, if the near-naked snuggling is any indication,” Dan says, hoping he isn’t being too transparent. Phil has amassed a rather large pile of sugary items and the cupboards are still open all around the room, but Phil must not be bothered because he turns to lean casually against the counter and look at Dan. 

“Oh, yeah!” he says, all smiles and eyes, “We started hanging out after-” Phil’s smile falters, his eyes drop to the floor, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows uncomfortably.  _ After I disappeared several months ago. _ God, she must have been a fucking mess and Dan was spending his nights fucking strangers and his days sleeping or chatting up another night’s worth of strangers.

“Right.” Dan turns and idly starts poking at the edges of the pancake. It’s nowhere near ready to flip, but he can’t stand to look at Phil. He can’t think about it too long or too hard or he runs the risk of falling back into the greyscape. Luckily for him, that’s when Madeleine bursts through the door. 

“I’m home, my beauties!” she yells to them. She stops and her eyes close as she breathes in the smells wafting through her flat. When she exhales it’s with the most obnoxious sigh that turns into a groan, “It smells  _ so good _ in here.” Dan turns back to his pancake and prods the edges again before flipping it. He feels Madeleine’s hands slither around his waist from behind.

“You’re such a good husband,” she sighs against his back. 

“Ha!” Phil shouts, causing them both to look back at him, “I knew something was up between the two of you!” Dan giggles and turns back to the stove. 

“You ever gonna get out those plates out, mate?” he asks, “This one’s almost ready and they’re best fresh.” 

They make up their pancakes and eat them as they come off the stove. Dan takes the first one, which always manages to turn out a bit shit, so he plays it up like a sacrifice on his part. Soon the pile of pancakes has outrun their ability to eat them and after the last bit of batter has been cooked, they settle down at the table.

“So, Dan,” Madeleine says between bites, “If you’re not going back to school, what are you planning to do?” Dan stops mid-bite, a lump of cotton forming in his throat, stomach churning dangerously around what he just consumed. He sets his fork back on his plate.

“I-” He tries to swallow and its fruitless. It’s the beginning of the year and the rest of his life is stretched out in front of him, a void lacking any prospects. He sighs. He’s well and truly fucked and it’s all his own doing, “I guess I’ll have to move back in with my mum.” Madeleine raises an eyebrow, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully before responding.

“I imagine that means getting a shit job and doing a repeat of last year when you hated waking up in the morning and had no friends.” Dan winces. It’s harsh and not at all what he wants to hear, but that’s the reality of his situation. The university had already sent him multiple emails detailing opportunities to avoid expulsion that he had ignored, then requests for him to remove his stuff from the dorms. His heart sinks, but this is his life now. He fucked up and now he has to face the consequences.

“Or you could get a shit job in Manchester and move in with me,” he looks up to meet her mischievous smirk with confusion. He disappeared from her life for months. He cut her out and didn’t look back. And her response is to open her home to him. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t deserve her kindness. 

“Mads-” 

“I want you to,” she meets his hesitant gaze with quiet confidence, then whispers, “I’ve missed you, Dan.” Her sincerity hits his chest like a freight train, knocking the air out of him.

“It would be nice to sleep in my own bed again,” Phil mumbles around a mouthful of pancake. His smiling lips shine with Golden Syrup. 

“Shut up, you know you love me,” Madeleine dismisses his halfhearted complaint with a wave of her hand, smiling brightly. When she turns back to face Dan she’s still smiling, but it’s softer, warmer. 

“What do you say?” Her eyes hold a fragile kind of hope. She actually wants him to move in with her. Dan’s chest swells with an inhale that feels stifled by the rush of emotions beating through his chest. She wants him to be in her life. He fucked up and she still wants him to stick around. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling back at her, “I reckon that’d be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Class is starting up again soon and idk what my new schedule will leave me with, in terms of free time, but I'm invested in this story and I love writing so much that I don't think I'll ever stop again.


	11. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our wrongs remain unrectified  
> And our souls won't be exhumed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @chaotic phan is my hero. Invaluable suggestions and helpful insights.

The next few days are a flurry of activity. Madeleine helps him pack up his dorm and move things into the spare bedroom. He applies for not shit jobs that he probably won’t get and shit jobs that he might get. Having little work experience and one failed attempt at a semester of university making him borderline unemployable. He stops putting it off and calls his parents, telling them what happened and forcing himself to listen to their concerns. Their disappointment is palpable, but knowing that he has a place to live and that he’s actively trying to find a job takes a little bit of the edge off the guilt he feels at disappointing them. 

After all his stuff has been moved in and unpacked, Dan spends a day tidying the flat. Tidiness is not one of Madeleine’s strengths and Dan can’t help but pick up the odd dirty dishes and the frankly staggering number of knickers and bras he finds strewn about the place. They’re everywhere. Shoved into crevices and kicked under things or just… lying about. When Madeleine returns from work, Dan hears her whistle at the near-pristine state of her flat. He chuckles to himself as he works at the stove. He doesn’t need the affirmations that he’s sure he’ll get and they’ll definitely be too much for a basic tidy.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dan hears her call as the door closes, “And may I say you have done wonders to this place. And  _ what _ is that glorious scent I’m detecting?” Dan finishes pouring the penne into the colander in the sink, then walks out of the kitchen and opens his arms in invitation.

“Darling! Welcome ho-” the air gets knocked out of him as Mads barrels into his chest, “Well, hello to you too,” he chuckles, nuzzling his face into her hair. Dan struggles to breathe against her constricting embrace for a few minutes, then she relaxes her grip and looks into his eyes.

“You made me dinner?” she asks, deep brown eyes in full puppydog mode. 

“Well, I was  _ hoping _ to get at least a couple of bites myself,” Dan laughs.

“And you  _ cleaned _ ?” she turns, keeping on arm around his waist as she surveys the room, “I don’t think the place has ever looked this good. You’re a wonder of a man, Dan.” He snorts and rolls his eyes, but his cheeks burn and he can’t stop a small smile from breaking across his face as Madeleine looks up at him.

She releases him and goes to pick up a bag she had set next to the door. She pulls a couple bottles out and holds them up excitedly. 

“I brought wine!”

*

They move to Madeleine’s bed after they finish dinner and casually sip white wine. Their conversation is lazy, idly sifting through a myriad of topics until Dan makes a clumsy joke about how his shit coping mechanisms have gotten him into trouble more often than not. 

“Was that what happened in October?” Madeleine’s voice is soft, but her eyes are guarded. She’s leaving it up to him whether he wants to dive in or avoid the topic. His immediate desire is to shy away, but he tamps it down. Madeleine hasn’t been pushing him and he hasn’t been forthcoming about what happened. But she wants to know. And Dan wants to tell her. His heart beats faster and harder, but he doesn’t plaster on a smile and push through it. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” Dan says, “I’ve been trapped in enough shitty situations that I taught myself how to just…” he shrugs as he fiddles with the stem of his wine glass, “repress everything. It’s not a great long-term solution, but when fight or flight isn’t an option I just… shut down.” They’re both quiet for a while. When Dan chances a glance at Madeleine, her face is scrunched in concentration. 

“But, what…” she meets his eyes, “What happened to set it off? I mean, you had a rough night and you left us for a while that day, but we were just talking and you seemed… fine? I thought we’d gotten past the worst of it by the time you left Phil’s and then you were just… gone.” Madeleine looks into her glass for a while before lifting it up for a drink. Dan mirrors her movements. He swallows thickly over the sweet liquid. 

He owes Mads more of an explanation, but he’s not sure he has one. It had been different these past few months. He still doesn’t fully understand what happened and why. He feels words welling up in his chest, swirling emotions boiling dangerously close to the edge, but he’s not sure what to say. 

“I think-” his eyebrows crease together as he tries to understand his own experiences, “It was like a depressive spiral, but this time my body kept going while my brain was broken.” He’s not looking at Madeleine, but it’s not fear that’s keeping his eyes on the duvet. He’s so concentrated on speaking clearly that eye contact would be a distraction from the words he’s trying to say, “And it took longer than usual for everything to come back to me this time.”

“Has anything like that ever happened before?” He doesn’t need to be looking at her face to understand her gentle encouragement. It’s infused in the cadance and timbre of her voice, the relaxed frame of her body. 

“Not really,” Dan says, letting his words take him where they want to go. There’s only so far that thinking can take him, “At least not that I remember. I didn’t really have any friends that would notice my disappearances before I met you but…” He hesitates. The words waiting on the tip of his tongue burn him with a desire to share. He shifts in his place on the bed, moving to set his glass down on the side table. A ball of nerves clutching his chest as he considers if it would hurt more to keep his thoughts to himself or spill them. Madeleine waits, seeming to sense Dan’s hesitation. Dan inhales and scrunches his face as he breathes out through his nose. He doesn’t look at her when he continues.

“But things have gotten… pretty dark for me before. And because I didn’t have anyone to tell me otherwise… I convinced myself that the world would be better without me in it... that it would be easier if I wasn’t around.” Dan decides to plow through before he loses his nerve.

“It happened once when I was sixteen, then again last year,” Dan isn’t sure what he’ll get out of this conversation, where it’s going, or how they got here. He’s not sure there’s any good way for Madeleine to respond to this kind of confession, but it’s something that he suddenly needs to say, “I’m not asking for sympathy or anything, I think I just wanted you to know because… well, because you’re my best friend. And I don’t expect you to understand, but I thought you should know that it’s something I’ve struggled with.” Madeleine shifts to set her glass down as well, then her hand moves to cover his own. She squeezes gently and he chances looking at her face. She’s wearing a soft, warm smile and there’s no judgment in her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says quietly, “You can always ask for my help when you’re feeling low. I might not always be able to give you the help you need, but I’m here for you.” She squeezes his hand a little tighter.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, not really sure what else to say.

“I love you and my world would be significantly dimmer if you weren’t in it... so for entirely selfish reasons, I want you to tell me if you ever feel like life isn’t worth living again.” Her smile turns into a smirk and Dan returns it, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you’ve always been a bit of a selfish bitch.” She punches his arm way harder than necessary to get her point across, but they’re both laughing and she follows her abuse with a tackle and some forced cuddling in which she insists on being the big spoon. Her hips only reach to his waist, but she somehow manages to make him feel fully enveloped and safe. Their breathing slows and they find each other sharing the same rhythm. 

Madeleine has always been so kind and caring and safe, even when he does everything in his power to push her away. She stubbornly refuses to let him shake her off and while he’s glad he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for disappearing on you.” She hums in affirmation.

“S’okay. You’ll just have to make it up to me by cooking and cleaning and cuddling me and… hopefully not judging me for getting back with Ash?” Dan freezes for a moment. Then he’s sitting up, despite Madeleine’s protests, and turning to look at her where she’s curled in on herself and is hiding her face against the pillow.

“You  _ what _ ?” Mads peaks an eye over the pillow to look at him before pressing her face fully into the pillow and stretching out to lay flat on her stomach with a groan.

“It’s not a big deal,” she mumbles into the pillow. 

“Not a big- Mads she’s using you and you know it!” Madeleine props herself up on her elbows and looks at him.

“Well then I’m using her too! She’s great in bed and I like cuddling her and we have some lovely conversations-” 

Dan interrupts, parroting her tone, “And her eyes are beautiful grassy fields that fill my heart with joy and make me believe in love again!” Maybe a bit harsh, definitely over the top, “You love her and she doesn’t love you and every time this happens, you end up a mess that I have to clean up!”

“It’s not like we’re dating or anything!” Mads says, sitting up, “We just… fuck sometimes.” Her resolve seems to crumble as she says it. Dan doesn’t bite back. He waits, having said it all before and knowing that Madeleine doesn’t need to hear it all again. When it ends, she’ll be a mess and Dan will be there for her, like he has been since they met. But it will most assuredly end and it will be messy. Dan sighs, leaving his initial anger behind and infusing his voice with gentle calm.

“Look,” he says, “You know what you’re doing and I don’t think it will end well, but I love you and you know I’ll be here for you, no matter what happens. Just… be careful.” Madeleine isn’t looking at him anymore. Her head is hanging and her shoulders are slumped. Then she starts shaking.

“I know she’s using me,” she gasps somewhere between a sob and a yell, “and I don’t care! She’s got a lot of stuff going on and she needs someone to be there for her when it gets bad and I can do that! I’m not going to leave my friend in the dark just because she might hurt me. If I dropped everyone who hurt me, I wouldn’t have let you hang around, now, would I?” Her cheeks are shining, but there’s anger in her eyes. As much as Dan wants to fight back, he doesn’t. The impulse leaves as soon as it arrives. The accusation in her voice is one Dan can’t refute. She’s right. He disappeared without warning, but when he showed back up and needed her she didn’t hesitate to take him in. 

Their silence hangs heavily in the air. Madeleine’s shoulders are shaking and her face is caught in her hands. 

“Come here,” Dan says, holding his arms open to her. She crawls the small distance between them and curls up in his lap. He wraps his arms around her and buries his face against her shoulder as her sobs become audible. Sometimes words don’t do enough to mend what’s been broken. Sometimes the hurt is too deep to do anything other than touch. Ash has hurt her in the past. Ash will hurt her in the future. Dan knows it’s going to happen and he knows he can’t stop it.  _ But I hurt her too. _ He had abandoned her without warning and he couldn’t be sure it would be the last time. The realisation broke into his heart and started grinding. He didn’t want that to happen again. He couldn’t let it happen again. 

“I think I need to get help,” he whispers, “I want to get better. I want to  _ be _ better. I don’t want to be another person in your life that hurts you.” Madeleine chokes out a sob against his chest, fists balling up his shirt and he pulls her in tighter. They collapse into bed soon after, Dan assuming the position of big spoon, exhausted from the intensity of their conversation. The warm buzz of wine weighing their eyelids down. 

“I don’t know why we bothered setting up a bed in my room,” Dan says after their breathing had evened out, “It’s not like I’m ever going to sleep there.” Madeleine elbows him sleepily.

“Stop complaining or I’ll kick you out.” Dan huffs a couple tired laughs.

“No you won’t.” Madeleine grabs his hand and pulls it around her waist and across her chest, up to lay on her shoulder. He pulls her closer on instinct.

“You’re right, I won’t,” she mumbles before she slips into unconsciousness. It doesn’t take long for Dan to follow. 


	12. Midnight Stroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accusations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided on Thursdays. New chapter every Thursday. Unless a meteor destroys the world before next Thursday, that is. 
> 
> Big thanks for the encouragement and beta-ing @Nekia @chaotic phan @Onyx_Stardust @Completely figurative

_So who’s going to be the boy and the girl?_ _His voice whispers, pleading, urgent. His eyes flick to my lips and his stare focuses. His eyes are so bright and beautiful yet they seem so sad and deep with emotion. I don’t understand. I wish I could just understand. I’m falling, hopelessly, crushed into a million tiny pieces on the floor where they kick me in the stomach then pick me up by the throat to push my head against a coat peg, laughing._

_ It hurts so much, but I can’t react. I’ve nowhere to run from the self-hatred in my bones. I have no one left that I haven’t hurt or lied to. I can’t fight without my armor. _

Dan wakes with prickling skin. His head is weighed down by wine and his heart is battered and sore. Where the sheets on top of his body felt warm and comforting while he slept, they are now too heavy and hot. He pushes them off without opening his eyes and sprawls his limbs. Everything feels too close and that stifling sensation pulls his legs off the side of the bed. As his feet hit the cold floor his mind is pulled into the present and his eyes open.  _ Why am I awake? _

He looks back at Madeleine sleeping peacefully, curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets. Her breaths come slow and shallow. She is illuminated by the soft yellow fluorescence of streetlamps as they bleed through the fabric draped lazily and moving against the heat lifting from the radiator. 

The air smells of heated metal and everything feels dry. With a sigh he stands and walks into the hallway when a shiver ambushes him. He diverts to his bedroom and pulls on several layers, hoping to trap some precious warmth. He wanders down the hallway, socked feet shuffling across carpet. When he arrives in the lounge he stops. The numb of his wakeful tiredness halting his progress. Despite his mind’s sluggish uptake, he knows he’s not going to sleep any time soon. With a sigh, he grabs his coat and slips on his shoes before walking out the door. His breath twists in lazy spirals as he meanders through the vacant streets. The ground is wet with melted ice, the faint scent of salt soothing thoughts of slipping from his mind. 

His mind is quiet in the cold. Every step keeping him just ahead of his thoughts as they threaten the peace. The chill in the air freezes against his lungs with every breath as they come more frequently, combatting his exertion. His legs numb into their slow, careful movements until he’s not aware of any step but the next. Then his mind catches up, creeping against the shadows surrounding him.

He feels so lost. He’s adrift without a tether in this time nestled between bouts of wakefulness, when the rest of the world is sleeping. He feels trapped, stuck in the swirling folds of his brain circling over and over, mired in the cyclical hills and valleys of his life. Up until he met Madeleine, life had been one deep, dark valley of pain and solitude. University was his light, the destination he clung to where he would finally be free, no longer suffering in silence. But it hadn’t been. He had more freedom, but he had used that freedom to fuck up the one true friendship he had finally managed to find.

He had met Phil on a dark street like this one, then disappeared. Phil had been nothing but kind and absurdly generous. He opened his home to him, gave him a bed and blankets. He had made Dan breakfast in the morning and tea to warm him up. He had made sure Dan’s best friend knew he was safe. And when Dan woke up, a shell of himself, he had reached out to her without hesitation and made sure he would be cared for. He didn’t ask for anything in return and Dan, never one to disappoint, had given him nothing. 

He was a black hole, constantly hungry for more love, more affection, more attention. Then, when it started to feel like enough, he pushed it all away. 

His life is looking up now. He has a place to live, a warm bed to fall into, clothes on his back and in his wardrobe. He will get a job and ensure his own independence. There are details that still need to be sorted, but he’s not going back to Wokingham. He’s safe. 

Yet everything feels so fragile. He’s walking across crystal glass over unfamiliar, deep waters and he can’t see the bottom. The shoreline is nowhere in sight and he can feel the world shifting, cracking underneath him. One misstep and he knows he’ll plunge through and it’s cold enough that everything will freeze over before he can find his way to the surface. 

Dan shivers against a gust of wind, pulling his hood over his head as he keeps walking away from Madeleine’s flat. His flat now too. 

Nothing is open at this hour, but he doesn’t want the interaction that waltzing into a place of business would require, so he doesn’t mind. He’ll just let his feet take him until his eyes don’t want to stay open any longer. For now, the cold and his whirling mind keep them open as he watches his shadow shift around him, cast in different directions under the evenly spaced street lamps as he walks. 

“Excuse me,” fingers brush across his arm, making Dan jump away and let out a rather undignified sound, fear pulsing through his veins. He looks up and feels relief ripple across the surface of his emotions, but knows the panic will take some time to fade into a normal heart rhythm.

“Phil!” he cries, hand fluttering to his chest, “You scared me half to death!” Phil smiles sheepishly at him.

“Sorry,” he says, “I wasn’t sure if it was you and I didn’t want to call out in case I was wrong.” Dan closes his eyes and forces himself to take a couple deep breaths.  _ It’s just Phil. You’re alright, it’s just Phil.  _ He opens his eyes again as his senses start returning to him.

“Wait,” he says, “What are you doing wandering around so late?” he pulls out his phone to check the time. Why hadn’t he done that before? “Or should I say so early… it’s half past three.” Phil shrugs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, “Thought a walk might clear my mind.” 

_ Same. _

“How’s that working out for you?”

“I’ll let you know,” Phil says, smiling. It doesn’t reach his eyes, “You’re a nice distraction though.” Phil’s eyes widen momentarily before falling to the ground. Dan feels a smile dimple his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Not as drunk as the first time we ran into each other on these Manchester streets.” Phil laughs and his eyes flick up to meet Dan’s for a second, his smile making his eyes all squinty.

“I even remembered a jacket this time,” Dan puffs out his chest like remembering the basic human need for warmth is some great feat worthy of praise and adoration. Phil shakes his head, smile still firmly plastered across his face.

“I’m so proud,” he says, then shifts his eyes back to the pavement. The silence that follows is uncertain. Dan squirms internally, but his mind is unhelpfully void of suggestions on what an appropriate next step might be. 

“So,” Phil says, shifting awkwardly, “What got  _ you _ out of bed at this ungodly hour? Or have you not gotten there yet?” Dan sighs.

“Honestly, not sure,” he shrugs, then scrunches up his face, trying to remember what had started his mind hurtling down the crazed path of quiet discomfort he’s currently feeling, “just my brain being overactive, I guess.” A gust of wind hits them both unexpectedly and suddenly his jacket doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

“Jesus Christ on a bicycle!” Dan exclaims as a shiver wracks his body, “It’s bloody freezing!” Phil laughs again, then gestures for Dan to follow him as he turns halfway toward the direction he came from.

“C’mon,” he says, “We can go back to mine and have a nightcap or something” Phil’s cheeks look like they redden. Must be from the wind. 

“Trying to lure me back into your bed, Philip?” he tuts, shaking his head, “You’re a shameless flirt, you are.” 

“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining last time,” Phil jabs back, a smirk dancing across his lips, “but you’re right-” Dan’s heart quickens, “-it’s bloody freezing and I can’t walk and hold a conversation at the same time. I’d trip over my flipper feet.” Dans shoulders sink as he relaxes into a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah,” he says, willing his heart to find a less unsettling rhythm, “yeah, alright. I suppose that makes sense. Lead on, Mr. Amazing!”  _ What the fuck is wrong with me? _ Phil laughs again. He keeps doing that like everything Dan is saying is fucking hilarious. 

“Right this way, your majesty,” Phil says with a flourish of his wrist. 

“Nooooooo,” Dan groans, “Stop torturing me with my drunken confessions! You make one bad joke when you’re pissed off your tits and no one lets you live it down.” He pouts out his lips, but starts walking with Phil. 

“Yeah, what exactly is that whole royalty thing about?” Phil asks, “Mads has been referencing it since we met, but she never really explained why it’s a thing.” 

“She hasn’t told you about how we met?” he asks incredulously. Phil shakes his head shrugging his shoulders.

“I asked once, but she wouldn’t say. Said it wasn’t her story to tell.” Dan smiles to himself. Madeleine really is a great friend and she knows him so well. Despite his sudden, unexpected absence from her life, she didn’t bare his secrets. 

“Well that just makes it seem much more dramatic than it really was,” he says, huffing out a laugh and rubbing at the base of his neck, attempting to soothe his nerves as he considers what he wants to say. He realises that he really doesn’t know much about Phil. Sure, he’s watched his videos and Phil had literally rescued him after an unfortunate panic attack, but they hadn’t had much chance to talk since that fateful day in October. He and Madeleine had clearly gotten close since then, but Dan hadn’t been involved when their friendship started. 

How much should he reveal? Phil has literally had Dan’s life in his hands and he had treated the responsibility with reverence, so Dan is sure he can be trusted. Still, the words hadn’t left his mouth since that drunken night in Madeleine’s flat last year and he’s not sure if it's possible to force them out without the social lubricant of alcohol and the precursor of deep conversation.

Which is stupid. It’s a simple word. It’s a simple enough thing to say. It’s a very simple explanation that makes a lot of sense. So why can’t he just say it?

He can’t help but feel like he’s been left behind. He’s nineteen years old and the very thought of a single word  _ terrifies _ him. It lurks in the back of his mind, taunting him as he fights to keep his panic at bay. He sees it in the eyes of people when they look at him, sometimes. They see something in the way he moves or speaks. They corner him with it and he can’t fight against the accusations because he doesn’t know what they’re seeing that makes him seem so obvious. 

And Phil has a boyfriend. Dan isn’t sure if that makes this admission easier or harder. Saying this one word to him should be easy. Phil would probably understand. Phil would probably empathise. Phil probably wouldn’t hit or yell or shrink away with fear. 

Dan looks over at Phil walking beside him. He’s looking at the ground in front of him, chin tucked into his chest, hands shoved into his coat against the cold. His breaths wisp over his soft pink lips. His hair flutters with every step they take. Phil looks up, sensing Dan’s gaze and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a crooked smile. 

“I don’t know, Dan,” he says, “I get the feeling that everything you do is at least a little bit dramatic.” His tongue pokes out between his teeth and Dan’s cheeks ache against the smile he forces off his face. He puts a hand to his chest, letting his mouth drop open in horror.

“Phil Lester! What exactly is it that you’re accusing me of?” Phil laughs, head tossed back.

“You’re only proving my point by being such a drama queen,” he says, then his eyes light up, “Is  _ that _ why Mads dubbed thee royalty?” 

“It might have been a contributing factor,” Dan forces a smile, laughing bitterly as he looks at the pavement, “Not the main reason though.”

“What’s that?” Dan sighs and curses his inability to speak clearly. He forces himself to look Phil in the eye.

“That’s not the real reason,” he says, “But I think you might have to get a couple drinks in me before I tell that story.” 

Phil’s face is a study in caution, then he lights up, a smile breaking over his face as surely as the sunrise. 

“Challenge accepted.”


	13. Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mismatched and monochrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to @chaotic phan for being an amazing beta and brit-picker. Thanks to #Nekia and @Onyx_Stardust for being the best cheerleaders imaginable.

Phil stops just as he pushes his key into the lock and turns slowly to face Dan, eyes wide, mouth quirked to the side like he’s immensely uncomfortable. Which Dan vaguely resents. That’s his job. He’s about to walk into Phil’s flat. At almost four in the morning. With every intention of getting drunk enough to spill a few secrets. He doesn’t have a plan past that. He’s terrified. 

More than terrified. He's thinking about opening up about the things so deeply buried within him that he literally doesn't remember discussing it ever. Not only that, but he's about to talk through his deepset issues with none other than Philip fucking Lester: the one and only AmazingPhil: the guy that Dan has been pining over since he first discovered his channel; the guy to whom he has written so many deleted confessions and professions that it's frankly ridiculous and a little too obsessive to be healthy. 

And here he is, about to further encroach upon Phil's generosity by unloading a lifetime of insecurity onto him. 

“So,” Phil says, pulling Dan back into the present, “I wasn’t really expecting company and,” his eyes flick back toward his door and he sighs, “my flat’s a disaster. Please don’t judge me?” his eyebrows come together as he makes a tight-lipped smile-grimace. Dan sighs, trying to keep it together against the onslaught of guilt coursing through him.

“Phil,” his voice breaks over his name, but he lets the raw vulnerability shine through, “the last time I was in your flat, you stripped me down and tucked me into your bed because I had hypothermia. I’d be a right dick if I decided to judge you for being a bit of a mess.” 

“Your mum’s a bit of a mess,” Phil mumbles, then looks back at Dan. They snort as he turns the key.

Damn. He hadn’t been kidding. There are socks  _ everywhere; _ more socks than there were knickers in Madeleine’s flat. They’re on the coffee table, on the sofa, on the floor. There’s lighting equipment and a vacant tripod set up in front of the breakfast bar and all the cupboard doors are open. The kitchen counters are a mess, covered in flour and sugar and cluttered with a variety of non-perishable items. There’s even a scattered pile of white powder on the floor, looking like it had been kicked around after being spilled. It was… quite the mess.

“Yeah,” Phil says, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and looking sheepishly up at Dan from under his eyebrows.

“Even my mum can’t rival this level of mess,” Dan whistles as he looks around. 

“I may have tried to make some Delia Smith pancakes for a video, but…” Dan is surprised by a laugh that seems to jump out of him. 

“I think you’re supposed to put the ingredients in the mixing bowl, Phil,” he cackles some more, unable to help himself. Phil joins in and they spend a good amount of time bent over, clutching their stomachs and each others' shoulders in an attempt to stay upright. 

Phil wipes his eyes as their laughter fades into giggles. "So, drinks?" He manages to get out before they break down again. Dan's hand slips from Phil's shoulder as a particularly violent laugh makes his abs spasm violently and he immediately falls to the floor, which leaves Phil unsteadily stumbling, trying not to fall or step on Dan. He manages- just- and ends up standing with his feet straddled on either side of Dan's waist. His panicked expression causing Dan to wheeze and pant as all the air is pushed out of his lungs by the hilarity of their relative positions.

"Jesus  _ Christ _ , Phil," he manages, tears streaming freely from his eyes. Phil's wiping at his eyes again and as his giggles settle down he covers his mouth and nose with both hands, his head and shoulders leaning back with the remnants of his laughter. He's still stood over Dan and Dan is incredibly aware that looking Phil in the face is basically impossible in this position, blocked as it is by his looming crotch. He's wearing black skinny jeans, which makes it difficult, but he can just about see the outline of- he snaps his eyes shut. 

"Phil?" he croaks out, suddenly unable to move, "is there a reason you're still stood over me?" He chances opening an eye and sees Phil looking down at him, thankfully leaned a little forward so Dan can focus on his face. Phil pulls the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth and worries it as his cheeks pinken. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but looks determined not to move. 

"I'm scared I'll step on you if I try to step over you," Phil admits. Dan smirks, then snorts. 

"Close your eyes." Phil's eyes do the opposite of closing, making Dan laugh some more. He shifts up onto his elbows and looks up at Phil through his raised eyebrows, a smirk playing across his face. 

"I'm gonna shuffle out from under you in a very undignified fashion and I don't fancy you having that particular image seared into your brain for the rest of eternity." Phil eyes relax, then become slits as he giggles, his hands going back to cover his mouth and nose, then he slides them dutifully over his eyes as well, shaking with laughter that hisses beneath his hands. 

Dan shifts onto his hands and half crab walks, half shuffles his bum backwards across the floor trying not to knock into Phil's feet. When he gets far enough out to stand, he looks up to see a single sparkling blue eye twinkling at him from between long, slender fingers. His mouth drops open.

Phil squeaks at being caught out and rushes toward the kitchen, shifting gracefully around filming equipment and over the scattering of socks. Dan scrambles after him, a smile on his face and no plan of what to do if he actually catches him. He chases Phil around the kitchen table, circling and pausing, giggling at this sudden game of tag until they’re stood across from each other in a standoff, huffing and smiling at each other. Dan laughs and admits defeat by leaning against the back of the chair in front of him, laughing breathily, chest heaving. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be young and fit? How did I manage to miss out on that fabled teenage stamina?” he laughs, but Phil's eyes widen, then fall to the floor. Phil laughs stiffly and Dan cocks his head to look at him. Phils cheeks are rosy and he’s avoiding Dan’s gaze. Perplexed by the sudden change, Dan stands up and takes a step toward Phil, which Phil backs away from, his eyes widening in… fear? Dan pauses, completely baffled by this response.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s not sure what he’s apologising for. As far as he can tell they were being silly one second then… “Did I do something wrong?” Something flickers over Phil’s face and his eyes lose focus for half a second. Then he’s blinking Dan back into focus and he smiles… but it isn’t reaching his eyes again. 

“No! Of course not!” Phil grabs the back of his own neck and slides his hand around until it rests next to his adam’s apple, “Sorry, no, it’s my fault. Just got lost in my own mind for a second.” Phil moves quickly to one of the already-open cupboards and sifts through its contents for a bit. 

Dan stares at him, trying to suss out the details of this sudden change. His hands are shaking more than they usually do. His shoulders are raised just slightly, making him seem smaller. Which is quite the feat given how obviously broad they are, straining against the plaid flannel as his moving arms shift the fabric around them. And under his lifted arms, his body curves slowly inward, then bumps smoothly back out. The curve of his back rivals the curve of his waist, both lean and almost delicate. Phil reaches up to the top shelf and all the moisture leaves Dan’s mouth as Phil’s shirt lifts and he gets a peak at the creamy white skin beneath it. 

He takes two steps forward and digs his fingers greedily into the soft, exposed flesh over Phil’s hips, pulling his body against him, then running his hands up to Phil’s chest and pulling him close enough to hungrily mouth at the skin above Phil’s collar-

Dan shakes his head, blinking against the blood rushing quickly to places it really shouldn’t be going… but it’s already there. He shoves his right hand quickly into his front jeans pocket and clears his throat, causing Phil to look back at Dan quizzically. Dan smiles in a way that hopefully doesn’t let onto the thoughts that were just racing through his mind. 

Wow, this was a really bad idea. It’s way too late (and early) for alcohol and drunken confessions between relative strangers. Especially when one of those strangers is incredibly fit and incredibly taken. Phil moves over to the fridge, setting a bottle on the counter as he goes. He grabs out some cranberry juice, setting it next to the bottle- vodka, Dan registers- and flits over to get a couple glasses. This is going to be interesting. 

“C-can we do a couple shots, then switch to something with a mixer?” he blurts. If the goal is purely to get drunk, which it is, then vodka shots couldn’t be a more perfect prescription. 

*

“What’s wrong?” Phil asks and Dan drags his eyes open, lifting his head off the back of the sofa to look at the man sitting next to him… too close. Phil’s so close that he could lean over right now and catch his lips in a kiss without falling over… probably. Staying upright is a feat that Dan is finding increasingly difficult and he’s not sure if it’s the ridiculous hour- almost 5am- or the drink, but his whole body feels heavy and sluggish. 

“I dunno,” Dan says, “I dunno how to talk about serious stuff.” Phil’s eyes are captivating. Of course the colour of them is striking enough to knock Dan off his feet, but they’re just so big and open nestled between perfectly shaped eyebrows and chiseled cheekbones, “You’re really pretty.” Phil laughs and it’s reaching his eyes again, which makes Dan glad. He likes it when Phil’s smiles reach his eyes. 

“Serious stuff?” Phil asks,  _ bless him for ignoring my stupid mouth _ , “What kind of serious stuff?” Dan groans dramatically, flopping his head against the back of the sofa again. He gestures with the hand not holding his drink, waving it about above his head like he’s hoping to either gather or swat away all the serious stuff. When this method is not remotely successful he looks back at Phil, taking in the amused expression on his pretty face, and giggles.

“You’re  _ seriously _ pretty,” he says before emptying his drink into his mouth.  _ What am I saying? What am I doing?  _ He looks down into his empty glass in confusion, “Did you even put any alcohol in this? It just tastes like cranberry juice.” Phil laughs and finishes his drink as well. He plucks Dan’s glass from his hand and stands to wobble into the kitchen. Without thinking about it, Dan stands unsteadily and follows Phil all the way to the sink, where he watches him fill both glasses with water and turns to hand one of the glasses to Dan, leaning his seriously pretty bum back against the counter, hiding it from Dan’s view. Which is a shame. Phil’s butt is great. 

“So, serious stuff,” Phil says, sipping at his water and gesturing for Dan to do the same. It takes enough effort that Dan is momentarily distracted from thoughts of Phil’s butt, then Phil’s mouth is talking again, which is even more distracting, “Sounds like the kind of thing that might be easier to talk about when sober?” Dan shakes his head violently to indicate the severity of his disagreement with this idea.

“ _ No _ ,” he emphasises, “My brain is too loud when I’m sober and I can’t get anything out. Everything gets jumbled and confusing when I’m sober.” Phil laughs.

“Most people would say that alcohol does that to them.” 

“I’m not most people,” Dan says, “My brain doesn’t like me most of the time and it feels like I can’t get a word in edgewise. It’s literally the worst feeling and all I want is to tell people what’s going on, but it’s like my brain is keeping me captive and secluded and I can’t get myself to just  _ connect _ . I want that more than anything and I think that’s why Mads and I get along so well because when my brain starts getting too loud, she just grabs me by the face and yells at my brain to shut up for a minute… or she lays on top of me and it smothers the thoughts down so we can just talk.

“It’s like she has magic fingers or something cause all she has to do is touch me and all the noise goes away. She just  _ cares _ so much about me. And I really don’t deserve her, but she’s my best friend and I’m so lost all the time, but she just has this way of finding me and helping me find my way back out again.” Dan sets his glass against the counter, then leans back against it, looking away from Phil.

“But I haven’t figured out how to extend that to other people. I mean, the closest I’ve ever gotten to opening up to someone besides Madeleine is with you and I ran away screaming the day after and disappeared for months,” he shakes his head, laughing hollowly at himself, “I mean, who does that?”He finally looks back at Phil who taps a finger to his lips as he sets his own glass down behind him. 

“Are you sure you’re not dating Mads and her ‘magic fingers’?” Phil makes clumsey air quotes that look more like grabby hands. There is a moment of silence in which they just stare at each other, waiting. Then Phil sputters into laughter and Dan immediately follows. 

“Okay, I have an idea,” Phil says once their giggles have tamed into the occasional huff, “You said you have a hard time opening up to people, right?” Dan nods, disappointment practically bleeding from his pores. 

"Let's play a game." 

"Alright, Jigsaw." A smile spreads over Phil's face. 

"Okay, Truth or Dare."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you have another cliff hanger


	14. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> such a cheeky game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just kidding, two weeks of cliffhangers is too cruel and I already had this one written, so... yeah. Enjoy the extra content!
> 
> Thanks @chaotic phan for being an amazing beta. @Nekia and @Onyx_Stardust for keeping me sane and letting me vent. Y'all are the best. <3

They’re sitting at the table across from each other with the bottle of vodka and a filled shot glass between them. Phil had insisted on it as a forfeit if they didn’t want to answer the truth or complete the dare. It may have seemed more like a reward than a punishment if it had been the beginning of this debaucherous night, but as they are both basically plastered to the wall, adding more booze to the cocktails swirling in their stomachs is- very firmly-  _ not _ desirable. 

"Truth or dare, Phil?" his voice is low, emitting a challenge. 

"Dare!" Phil’s eyes sparkle as he smiles back, clearly excited. Dan looks around the flat for inspiration. There are a lot of socks. He smirks. So far, neither of them have wanted to forfeit, but Dan would love it if he could get Phil to break first.

“I dare you to smell every sock that isn’t in the hamper.” Phil’s jaw drops. He stares at Dan for a moment before sweeping his gaze across his flat, eyes getting wider as he takes stock of the incredible number of socks strewn everywhere. He swallows, looks back at Dan, then looks at the floor in front of him. Dan feels giddy with triumph. 

Then Phil looks up at him, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He jumps up and runs to his room down the hallway. There are a couple grunts, a few bangs, and one  _ ow _ , then Phil is shuffling around the flat, still out of Dan’s sight. Incredibly curious about the entire situation, he stands quickly and rounds the corner to find Phil picking up socks and tossing them into the hamper he just drug out of his room. 

“Erm, aren’t you supposed to be sniffing those?” Dan crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the wall in disapproval. Phil stops, mid-toss, then grins at Dan like he’s having the best time of his life. 

“Oh, I will smell every sock that’s not in the hamper,” his face sinks into a look of seriousness, “Once I’m done tidying up. This flat is a mess and I have a guest around.” He goes back to picking up socks. Dan’s mouth falls open.

“That is  _ absolutely _ cheating!” Phil giggles, looking back up like he’s outsmarted Dan.

“You never said I couldn’t clean up a bit before completing the dare,” Phil says, matter of factly. All Dan can do is stare dumbly as Phil flits around the living room amassing a pile of socks in his arms. When he’s scoured the sofa cushions and cleared the coffee table of them, he puts his hands on his hips, surveying the room. He does a final sweep of the place, then his eyes settle on Dan.

“Hey, Dan,” he says, clearly attempting nonchalance, “I’m almost done cleaning up, but could you check the cushions again for me? If you find any socks, I’ll be sure to sniff them before putting them in the hamper.” Dan’s eyes narrow.  _ What’s he playing at?  _ As much as this looks like some kind of trap, Dan’s brain isn’t fast enough to stop his body from walking over to the sofa. He’s bent over to start searching the cushions, as Phil had asked, when something slams against his back, knocking him flat onto the sofa with an  _ oof _ . 

Then Phil is scrambling on top of him and sitting heavily on his bum, facing Dan’s feet, which he immediately grabs.

“Ahh!” Dan screams, “ _ Phiiiil! _ What are you doing?!”

“I won’t be conned into smelling your dirty socks on a technicality,” Phil grunts as he gets one of Dan’s ankles in a chokehold and struggles to remove the sock while keeping Dan’s bucking hips locked underneath him.

“What, do you have some kind of foot fetish?” Dan screams, struggling to dislodge Phil from him. Phil laughs in triumph as he gets a sock off, then scrambles to grab at Dan’s other foot.

“No-” Phil is interrupted as Dan bucks and kicks wildly, “ _ Ow! _ You’re the one asking me to sniff dirty socks!” Phil jumps off Dan- finally- holding both socks in the air and jumping up and down with glee. Dan places his now-bare feet onto the carpet and attempts to look put out as Phil plops Dan’s socks into his hamper, then removes his own and plops those in as well. He takes a moment and sniffs the air with a wiggle of his head, then exhales in satisfaction, “Ha! Dare completed.” 

“No way. That was definitely cheating,” Dan says breathlessly. Phil is heavier than his slender body suggests and it had taken a lot of effort to unsuccessfully attempt jostling him off. 

“No. I sniffed every sock that wasn’t in the hamper,” Phil says indignantly jutting his chin out and puffing his lips. Dan doesn’t actually care and now there aren’t any socks on the floor, so he’ll consider it a win no matter what happens.

“I still say I should get another turn since you’re a cheating cheater-head with no regard for the rules,” He squints his eyes at Phil who seems unbothered.

“Nope, now it’s my turn. Truth or dare?” Dan sighs, admitting defeat. 

"Um, truth, I guess?" 

"How did you meet Mads?" Dan starts at the sudden change of pace. A bolt of fear strikes through Dan's chest. He takes a deep breath, willing his heart to steady. 

“Alright," Dan struggles for a moment to collect the events of that night into words, "Well I honestly don't remember much about that night cause Mads bought me  _ way _ too many shots right out, but um… we were both abandoned by the friends we went out with, then she… took care of me." Angry faces, stomping feet, and rough pavement flash before his eyes. 

"When you got sick all over the both of you, right?" 

"Erm, yeah…” Dan shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Phil’s gaze, “That too." 

"What else happened that made you… require care?" 

Dan stiffens against the onslaught of memories. He forces himself to take a deep breath. He reminds himself that the point of this game is to open up. Phil is just trying to help him do that. This isn’t the Spanish Inquisition. This is a potential friend reaching out and offering support. He breathes and lets the tension fall out of his shoulders. When he looks at Phil again, he relaxes. 

“I got beat up and Mads rescued me,” he shrugs. Phil looks troubled by this, which is understandable. Getting beat up is definitely not fun. Dan might go as far to say it’s one of his least favorite activities. 

"Is that why you and Mads are so close?” Phil whispers. Dan takes a moment to chew on the question.

"It was definitely the thing that kick-started our relationship, but it’s been like that since we first met at that bar. She walked up to me and opened me up like it was nothing. I’ve never had anyone do that before. She was the first person who was ever interested in understanding me. Not only that, but she’s always there for me when I need it, even when I can’t give her anything in return. She just takes care of me." 

Dan shrugs again and fully intends to leave it at that. Anything more and he’ll just be whining. He’s got issues, sure, but so does everyone. Phil doesn’t need to be burdened by the shitstorm of angst and turmoil that has been his life. It’s just too much. He’s too much. He drives everything precious and perfect away from him. He’s probably driving Phil away right now. 

Phil has to realise how totally fucked up in the head he is and if he hadn’t before, he’s sure to now. Dan can’t stand the thought of Phil’s face going cold as he realises that Dan isn’t worth all the effort. Dan didn’t deserve to be brought in here and cared for last October and he didn’t deserve to be invited back in tonight. He left. He abandoned everything because it was too much and now he needs to be excluded from Phil’s world before he breaks it into pieces. 

Dan chances a look up and Phil is looking into the middle distance, thinking hard. Crap, had he already gone and fucked it all up? 

"Phil?" his efforts to keep the panic out of his voice fail spectacularly. Phil’s eyes shift to his and he slowly fades back into this dimension. 

"Right. Sorry. Thinking,” Phil smiles, “Your turn." 

“Erm, truth or dare?” 

"Truth!" Dan chews on the inside of his cheek for a second, trying to think of anything remotely appropriate to ask. Well, he had been a little thrown by the sudden reappearance of a certain past conquest. 

"How long have you been with Ben?" It can't have been long. Phil was hanging on his arm at the bar and seemed to shudder at every one of Ben's touches. Fresh relationships tend to be disgustingly touchy. 

"Oh, a little over a year now." Dan freezes. 

"... really?"

"Yeah, we met pretty soon after I moved to Manchester."  _ Fuck _ . Ben had reached out to  _ him _ on grindr. Ben had initiated the conversation. Ben had known very specifically what he wanted to be to Dan and exactly how he had wanted to be handled. And Dan had handled him. Ben has been dating Phil for over a year and he had asked Dan to fuck him mere months ago. 

"Oh. Cool." This information is, in fact,  _ very not cool _ . This shit is hazardous. It feels nuclear. What was, just a moment ago, a simple one night stand has become something very different. Dan feels slimy and uncomfortable and Phil is unaware of anything amiss, which makes it all so much worse.

"Okay, my turn. Truth or dare?" Phil smiles at him, his bare toes wiggling against the carpet. Phil is literally a ray of fucking sunshine and Dan can see the steamroller creeping up behind him. He doesn’t know much about Phil’s personal life. Phil is always talkative in his videos, but he doesn’t touch on things that are too heavy or intense. He makes creative, funny videos that brighten people’s days. 

And now Dan is involved in Phil's future pain. He doesn't know when it will happen, but Dan is certain that it will. Dan is going to be at least partially responsible for causing the smiling face in front of him to fall into grief. 

"Truth,” Dan almost whispers.

“Are you currently seeing anyone?” Dan’s thoughts are ripped into the present as he tries to understand what is being said. Why is  _ this _ the question Phil has gone for?

“What?”

“Like are you dating or consistently hooking up with someone?” Phil is smiling, his eyebrows reaching into his fringe.  _ He’s actually curious. What the fuck is going on? _

“No,” he says in a daze. Phil’s smile grows until he ducks his head and watches his toe push across the carpet. 

“Cool,” Phil says, then his mischievous eyes peek out from under his brow bone, “So you’re keeping Mads under wraps then?” 

Dan hurls a pillow in Phil’s direction- he misses- and Phil jumps away with a squeak. 

Dan opens his mouth to make some clever retort. Instead he clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth a couple times. “I’m thirsty.” 

Phil giggles, then steps toward him, reaching out and grabbing Dan’s wrist from his lap. His fingers brush Dan’s thigh and his lungs freeze up. Then he’s being hauled toward the kitchen. Phil releases him once they get to the sink and he collects Dan’s previously abandoned glass and fills it up. 

Dan immediately drains it once Phil passes it to him. Phil chuckles as he fills it again. Dan takes a single sip as Phil tops his own glass off. 

“Your turn.”

“What?”

“I choose truth.” Phil's shoulders shimmy with excitement.

“Oh, right.” Dan is almost delirious with sleep at this point and his mind is blank, then he remembers a particularly confusing moment from the sober beginnings of this morning. He opens his mouth, looking at Phil, then closes it to think. He doesn’t ever want that to happen again. He doesn’t ever want Phil to look at him with fear in his eyes. It hadn’t made sense and Dan has to know.

"Why did you get all…” he struggles, not wanting to say the wrong thing and cause it all to happen again, “scared… when I started to walk toward you earlier?"

"Oh, um,” Phil’s cheeks flush, maybe from the vodka, “I thought you might be flirting with me and I-” he inhales sharply, “didn’t know how to deal with it." He looks sheepishly at the floor and Dan suddenly misses the feeling of those blue eyes locked onto him. It takes a minute for his mind to filter out their absence and process Phil’s answer.

"Oh." 

"Were you?” Phil pulls his eyes from the floor and looks tentatively into Dan’s, “Flirting?"

"I…” he should say no. He should deny the possibility and save Phil the dilemma. He’s already the cause of so much pain in Phil’s future. He shouldn’t add confusion to the swirling mess of emotions between them. “Probably. I've kinda had a crush on you since I discovered your videos.” 

He should stop talking. He’ll only make things worse. He’s already said too much. Anything more might push Phil away completely. “I’m sorry if it made you feel weird. I don't mean anything by it and I wouldn’t-”  _ do anything to break up a relationship _ . But he had. He had stupidly, unwittingly done that very thing. God, he is well and truly fucked and his mouth just keeps digging the hole deeper. 

Phil’s fingers grace his shoulder, making Dan look up. Phil’s expression is gentle and the corners of his mouth pull gently toward his cheekbones.

“Truth,” Dan blurts, wanting to redirect his mouth toward words that are more appropriate for friendly conversation. Phil huffs a laugh at the change of subject and thinks. His fingers leave Dan’s shoulder and tap against his chin. 

"Okay, so why does Mads  _ insist _ you're royalty, despite you being, and I quote, 'a peasant'?" Dan snorts, then freezes. He’s suddenly far too sober to be having this conversation. 

“Can we do some more shots?” Dan asks. He’s resolutely not looking at Phil, not even out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want to know Phil’s reaction to his sudden diversionary tactic. But then Phil is quiet too long and Dan starts squirming. Just as he’s about to force himself to meet Phil’s eye-

“Yeah, okay,” Phil says, moving to grab the bottle of vodka and full shot glass from the table and gesturing for Dan to follow him back to the sofa. He puts the bottle on the coffee table as Dan sits himself on the edge of the cushions, then hands the shot to Dan, “But I really hope this isn’t a forfeit.” 

“It’s not.” Dan downs the shot, feeling the tasteless burn warm him as it slides down his throat. Phil sits next to Dan on the sofa, leaning against the back. Phil’s leg is pressed against him from mid-thigh to hip. Too close. Dan stays crouched on the edge, elbows on his knees, spinning the empty shot glass around in his fingers. Is he really going to do this? He doesn’t remember ever saying the words before. He tips more vodka into the shot glass, then downs that too. He’s going to do this. He wants to do this. 

"Um… basically…” he forces himself to breathe, “I'm gay.” He tenses automatically and waits. Phil doesn’t move from his relaxed position next to him. Phil doesn’t speak, so pretty soon more words are spilling out of Dan’s mouth. 

“Or at least I think I am and apparently I was rather insistent on my… preferences when I was drunkenly ranting at Mads. Like, apparently I said I was probably the 'King of the Queens' or ‘King of the Queers' or something like that. Both Mads and I were pretty gone at that point so the exact wording is up for debate, but yeah…." He waits again, but nothing happens. After several silent seconds in which Dan’s anxiety skyrockets into the stratosphere, he turns to look at Phil. 

Who is very clearly suppressing a grin and Dan is… offended.

“Are you laughing at my coming out?” he feels his face betraying him, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. Phil sputters, grabbing his stomach and jackknifing forward as he laughs. It’s impossible not to join in. 

“King of the Queens?” Phil says, wiping tears from his eyes, “That is, quite possibly, the best thing I have ever heard in my entire life! ” He giggles some more, “That’s an awfully lofty claim, Dan. Oh! Forgive me… your majesty,” he does a sort of half-bow from his seat on the sofa and Dan shoves him in the shoulder, causing him to fall over onto his side where he giggles some more. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fucking hilarious,” he’s trying for sarcasm, but it isn’t remotely effective. He can feel the smile across his face. He lets it linger, then his insecurity rears its head again because he just came out and Phil is  _ laughing _ . His smile fades as quickly as it arrived. Phil’s laughs slice through him like a knife plunged in acid.

“I’ve never actually told anyone before,” he whispers. Phil lets out a couple more laughs, but the hilarity of the moment seems to have calmed with this statement. Dan’s chest constricts.

“Wait, really?” Dan nods and Phil breathes in sharply through his nose, “I’m sorry, Dan. I didn’t mean to make fun-” Phil’s hand comes out to rest on Dan’s shoulder and Dan flinches. He’s on autopilot and his body doesn’t understand Phil’s touch. Fear and confusion and anger bubble into a rush of adrenaline, pushing him to his feet. Once he’s standing, he freezes. Every cell in his body wants to run out the door right now and find somewhere safe to hide… but Phil is safe. 

“I’m really glad you told me,” Phil says from behind him. Dan’s still frozen in place, his need to run warring with the desire to fall back into place beside Phil. A memory rises of a warm bed and bare skin and a gentle kiss between shoulder blades as Dan notices the sunrise pinkening the sky outside. 

Dan can’t move. He’s stuck. He can’t breathe. His muscles are tense, ready to fight the shadows creeping into the corners of his mind. He clenches his teeth together and slams his eyes shut. 

“Dan,” Phil whispers, but Dan can’t hear the gentle reassurance, the invitation to turn around and be accepted. He hears Phil shifting, then there is a moment of silence. There are hands on either side of his face. Dan’s eyes fly open and he’s confronted by blue, green, and yellow.

Phil’s fingers are cool and gentle against his jaw. His eyes burrow into Dan’s like he’s digging for treasure in them. There’s so much intensity boring into him that Dan’s fists clench and he feels himself sway under an azure gaze. It’s hot in here. Too hot to breathe. Dan has to focus on not gasping for air. He’s surprised by the gentle- if shakey- breaths he manages. 

Did Phil’s eyes just flick down to his lips? Surely they didn’t. There’s no way. It’s not possible. Dan’s brain must be playing more tricks on him, must be imagining more inappropriate things. It has been a few days since he’s had sex, which isn’t very long, but he’d been going at it practically every day for the past few months. Maybe he’s hallucinating, withdrawing from the endorphins his brain has become used to. Or maybe he’s had too much alcohol and he’s passed out on the floor, dreaming of tender fingers and lustful stares. 

Phil takes a step forward.

Their chests are centimeters, millimeters apart. Dan can feel their heat commingling between them. He can’t look away, can’t blink even as his eyes water from being open for too long. Then Phil’s fingers are moving, tickling down either side of Dan’s neck. The world goes dark and Dan is weightless, head tilting subtly back and eyes suddenly closed. 

The movement pushes his body forward and into Phil’s warm, solid figure. Their bodies connect and Phil pulls him closer. Phil’s right hand weaves its way around the back of Dan’s neck, then up into the long hair at the nape. His left hand trickles further down, over Dan’s chest, brushing a nipple, then snaking around to the small of his back. Then, as though working in concert, Phil’s fingers bite down and the ghost of Phil’s breath is shaking over Dan’s frantic pulse. 

“Dare,” Phil breathes the word over his neck. A whimper escapes Dan’s lips. 

“Kiss me.” 

Phil’s breath catches. He pauses, breathing in quick shallow breaths, then he pushes, oh so very gently, applying the slightest pressure where his fingers lace into Dan’s hair. Dan’s head tilts forward, slowly, until his forehead comes to rest against Phil’s. They breathe each other's oxygen in stilted, unsteady breaths. 

"I-" Phil stops himself. Dan opens his eyes and stares into Phil's, seeing his own reflection in them. Dan is pulled through the molasses of his arousal by the knowledge that, technically, Phil is taken. By Ben. The guy who Dan had helped to cheat on Phil. 

But right now… Phil just looks scared. He looks like he's fucking terrified, but not of Dan. Phil's hands are shaking against Dan's skin, his eyes are flicking all over Dan's face, checking for any sign that this is not okay.

"Only if you want to," Dan moves his hands slowly, but confidently. He skims his fingertips along Phil's forearms, feeling every hair as it comes to attention. Phil shivers and his eyes close. His lips part and a sigh escapes, a breath reaching between them and whispering over Dan's lips, cheeks, chin, neck. Dan let's his hands wander up Phil's arms to his shoulders, then trickle gently down his back. They come to rest around his waist, fingertips flattening to palms that press gentle warmth. 

"I can't." Phil's eyes open, but he doesn't pull away. Dan nods. He knows. He knew as soon as he released the request into the space between them that it wasn't going to happen. 

He moves to rest his head against Phil's shoulder, hands shifting as he pulls Phil closer and spends a few seconds breathing the scent of him. 

Now that the excitement of the moment has passed, he’s exhausted. He feels the wear on his body that a restless night and a long walk in the cold nighttime air caused. His body relaxes, all the tension he held onto releases and his body becomes a cooked noodle against Phil's. 

"Can we go to bed?" Phil stiffens against him and Dan huffs halfheartedly, "I remember you being a phenomenal cuddler and I don't think I'd make it back to Mads." Phil relaxes against him and nods, then pulls away, grabbing Dan's wrist again and pulling him toward his bedroom. 

Dan almost loses himself again as fabric shifts and skin is bared before him, but it’s only briefly visible before disappearing under the duvet. Phil settles down against his pillow and pats the one beside him. Dan stumbles a few times as he disrobes clumsily, down to his briefs, same as Phil. When he's got everything off, he looks at Phil's drooping eyelids. 

"Is this okay?" He has to ask. He doesn't want to push too far, despite the fact that he would do practically anything to be pulled against Phil's chest in this moment. Instead of answering with words, Phil lifts the duvet in front of him and stretches out both arms in invitation. Dan crawls in immediately and tentatively shuffles back until he feels a hint of Phil.

Phil folds an arm under Dan's shoulder, resting a hand on his chest, the other drapes lazily over Dan's waist. It is heaven and very soon Dan is floating in the clouds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #phan service


	15. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strap yourselves in, cause this one is gonna be a hefty bite.

_ Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang _

Dan groans as he is pulled from unconsciousness. He turns his face into the pillow attempting to block out the bright light pouring in through the windows. It hadn’t bothered him when he fell asleep but now it’s painful and his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. 

_ Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang _

He throws the duvet off his legs and shifts until his feet hit the floor. He cradles his throbbing head in his hands. His eyelids are sticking to his eyeballs, but he rubs them until he can force them open. Being able to see does not help him figure out why he’s awake.

_ Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang _

_ Oh, right. That’s why _ . A grunt forces itself from his body as he stands and saunters unsteadily toward the source of the disruptive noise. He passes by the hamper still sitting in the corridor. He sees the bottle of vodka and the empty shot glass on the coffee table. 

_ bang, bang, bang _

“Phil, please,” Mads’ voice is muffled by the door, but something about it wakes Dan up. He runs to it and struggles to get it open, cursing clumsy fingers and deadbolts. He opens the door to her wide, red eyes. He sees her mind whirling as her eyes come up to his face… then her face crumbles as she chokes on a sob. His arms envelope her, holding her up as tears stream down his chest and her body shakes. He grips tighter. He soothes her with whispers as his name falls from her lips like a mantra. 

Once her sobs have calmed and her breathing slowed, Dan ushers her through the door. Once they’re inside, he’s not really sure what to do. He doesn’t know his way around Phil’s flat, which isn’t very helpful in this situation. Surely he can find tea and a kettle somewhere-

“Why-When did you leave? What are you doing here?” Madeleine stutters out her questions with quiet hesitance, but they still send Dan reeling. His brain fogs back over, suddenly remembering his hungover exhaustion, and he groans.

“Too many questions. Too loud. Too early,” Dan sighs and plops down on the sofa. 

“Were you drinking last night?” Madeleine’s incredulous accusation pulls Dan’s chin off his chest. She looks furious. Usually her harsh expression would be scary, but her eyes are still puffy and red. As a result of that and Dan’s inability to get his body to move under the weight of what is turning out to be a monstrous hangover… Dan is mostly just struggling to keep his eyes open. So he gives up and lets them slip closed.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I couldn’t sleep and I met Phil on my late night stroll and we ended up back here.” He shrugs, then realises that he probably looks like the biggest jerk in the world right now. 

“So you just left- in the middle of the night- after having disappeared for months… to get drunk?” He flinches. No question: he definitely  _ is _ the biggest jerk in the world right now. 

“I’m sorry, Mads. I didn’t mean to worry you,” he says, “I’m sorry I worried you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dan braces for the well deserved telling off. Mads sighs, “Honestly I’m just glad you’re safe and accounted for.”

Dan hums in concurrence. He can’t do much else and his eyes are slipping shut again. He hears Madeleine sigh again. Her trainers squeak against the tile in the kitchen and there’s the clink of glasses and water running, then she’s thrusting a glass under Dan’s nose. 

“Drink this,” she commands. Dan’s throat screams a thank you as the cool water runs down and into his stomach. He immediately perks up, just a bit. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles in Madeleine’s general direction. 

“You’re welcome,” she mumbles back. She’s fiddling with a strand of her hair, worrying it with her fingers as she shifts slowly between the balls of her feet. 

“Mads,” Dan lifts his arm up in invitation and she shuffles willingly into the space beside him, curling into a tight ball and nestling against his chest. His arm falls over her back and he squeezes lightly, pulling her closer.

“I shouldn’t have run out without telling you that I was okay,” he says and he means it. Of course she’s not entitled to know where he is or what he’s doing, but she isn't being overly dramatic or possessive. It’s not about control. It’s about trust. Dan had betrayed her trust by abandoning her without warning and now he is going to have to work to gain that trust back. 

“S’okay,” she says, voice muffled by his chest.

“It really isn’t,” he says, “I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t expect to end up here, but I could have sent you a text saying I was with Phil. It would have been simple and easy enough to do. I just-” he sighs, “I’m sorry.” 

Madeleine's hand sneaks across his stomach and she pulls him closer. He leans his cheek against the top of her head. They breathe until their breathing begins to sync. They breathe together for a long time, settling back into each other. 

Dan has missed this. He’d forgotten how good this kind of easy intimacy feels. He had been chasing after the ghost of it in the arms of men who only saw him as a means to an end. It always left him feeling hollow and used. Not like this. In Madeleine's arms he feels safe and comforted. In this he feels love. 

“Would you like to sleep some more?” Madeleine asks and the mere suggestion makes Dan’s body slump with his exhaustion. He nods against her hair with a hum. She slowly extracts herself from his arm and stands. He forces himself up after her and starts heading back toward Phil’s room.

“Dan,” he looks over at Madeleine’s suddenly wide eyes, “Did you get drunk... and  _ tidy? _ ” He stares for a moment, cogs ticking slowly as he processes her question. He snorts, remembering.

“No, that would be Phil.” Her eyes get wider and her mouth drops open.

“ _ Phil _ tidied?” Dan tries not to laugh. He really does try. He fails. 

“I dared him to sniff the socks on the floor!” he cackles, “So he picked them all up.” Dan doubles over wheezing and moaning obnoxiously as he tries to catch his breath, splashing water over himself before he sets his glass down with a laugh-shaking hand. Every laugh presses more pain into his dehydrated, sleep deprived head, but he can’t stop. He’s surprised he has enough water left in him, but when he stands he has to wipe tears from his eyes. Madeleine is giggling next to him, but there is a pause and everything starts to settle.

“Wha’s going on out here?” Phil grumbles as he emerges from his room, his glasses framing the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. Dan looks over at Madeleine and the second their eyes meet, they’re laughing again. Phil watches as he and Mads cackle and point at his sleep-ruffled state. Dan knows his own hair probably isn’t any better, but seeing Phil’s straightened fringe poof over his exposed forehead, the hair on one side sticking straight up with day-old hairspray… it’s just too much. 

“Coffee,” Phil grunts when they've settled down then stumbles into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Dan and Madeleine follow him in and watch for a while as he stands there and stares at it. Dan settles himself at the breakfast bar, leaning a cheek against his forearms.

Madeleine wraps her arms around Phil from behind, "You know watched water never boils, right?" Phil grunts again. Mads laughs as she releases him to grab mugs and coffee supplies from various cupboards. 

Turns out watched water eventually boils and instant coffee isn't terrible when you're hungover and desperate for caffeine. After a couple cups and some pain killers, Phil transforms into something resembling a human being and Dan feels much more lively.

"Okay," Phil says, "I need you guys to clear out. It's a filming day."

"Oooooo," Madeleine taunts, "Do I get any spoilers this time?" Phil chuckles quietly. 

"Wait, you get a sneak peek of new videos?" Dan thinks about tamping down his excitement, but his hangover is doing enough to keep him from being too obvious… probably. 

"Not for this one, Mads," Phil says, still smiling, "I'm keeping this one secret until it's released. I have to refilm the beginning bit, then edit like a madman, so I might be MIA for the next couple of days." 

"I won't take it personally," Madeleine smirks, then elbows Phil playfully, “But I thought you had one planned out and filmed a couple of weeks ago?”

“Yeah, I did,” Phil says, shrugging, “but some stuff happened recently that feels too relevant to leave out.” Madeleine hums in acknowledgement. 

“Oh? Like what?” Dan asks. Phil ducks his head in a way that suggests he might be trying to hide his face. Dan can’t tell if it’s he’s smiling or blushing.

“Spoilers,” he mutters at the table in front of him. The way Phil’s avoiding Dan’s curious gaze feels a little too intentional and Dan squirms.

"We still on for Friday night?" Mads shimmies excitedly in her seat. 

"What's happening Friday night?" Dan asks, "Not that I'm desperate to know what my only two friends have planned for their weekend or anything pathetic like that." A laugh forces its way from Madeleine's chest. 

"I’ve been hosting weekly game nights on Fridays with Phil," she says, "Ben and Ash usually come," Dan tries to keep his posture and expression neutral as she sighs dramatically, "but I suppose you're welcome to join us, too." 

"Yeah, I guess that sounds fun or whatever. I'm always down to chill with Phil," Dan pauses for dramatic effect and Madeleine leans toward him pointedly, “And you're alright too, I suppose.”

“Well as the designated host, I reserve the right to banish you from the apartment,” Mads says while making squinty eyes at him, “So watch yourself, Daniel, or you might be uninvited.”

“So asking me along was all a farce?” he feigns outrage, flattening his hands on the table, “If you’re hosting, then I don’t have much choice in whether or not I attend, do I?” 

“Only cause you’re a loser with no friends,” Madeleine quips.

“Says the loser who’s friends with me.”

Madeleine groans, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m not responsible for your bad decisions just because I enable them,” Dan says over his coffee, “What kind of games are we playing?” 

Madeleine smirks at Phil who smirks right back.

*

Dan wakes up to a notification from youtube. Phil has finally posted his video. True to his word, it’s been a couple days since he said he was going to and it’s been over a month since he last posted anything, which is an unusually long stretch of time for him. He clicks the link, ready to learn whatever zany hijinks Phil’d gotten up to recently. Dan’s extra curious when he sees the thumbnail of a closet door. 

It starts with Phil, sitting on his bed and his typical "Hey guys!" Then, 

_ "So I know a lot of my videos tend to be silly and light and I don't really plan on having that change, but I recently made a friend and after a long conversation, they told me something that was really important to them and it got me thinking because I know a lot of people struggle with opening up and feeling safe, even when they're around good friends.  _

_ "I wasn't originally going to talk about this because it's really personal and not something that you necessarily need to know. My private life is very important to me and while I trust my audience, there's a lot of hate out there and I know that talking about this is going to open me up to all kinds of personal and professional problems, but I feel like it's important enough to take on that risk.  _

_ "So," Phil takes a deep breath, "here goes." _

_ There's a cut to a closet door, then it slides open, Phil pops his head out, “Hi,” he giggles, “I’m gay.” The door slides closed again, but catches on his knee and Phil says “Ow.” _

Dan pauses the video with a gasp. They hadn't talked to each other in the couple of days since their impromptu drunken confession fest, but there was no way he could be talking about anything else. He’s had a few anxiety attacks when he remembers saying the words to Phil like it wasn’t a big deal. Coming out for the first time he could remember, verbally confirming his sexuality was terrifying, but once he worked past that terror (thanks in large part to Mads' support) he just felt free.

He presses play, but that’s it. That’s the whole video. Dan plays through it several times, baffled into silence. Of course this is how Phil decides to come out. It’s simple and hilarious and nonchalant and so perfectly Phil. 

“Mads?!” Dan shouts. He hears a yell of acknowledgment, “Phil’s new video is up!” Another yell of confirmation. Dan shuts his computer and pulls out his phone.

**Dan** **Phil**

_ saw the new video _

_ what did you think? _

_ it’s just so… _

_ it’s perfect. _

_ ^.^ _

“Holy shit!” Mads yells then stomps her way into his room, mouth and eyes and arms wide. Dan smiles, completely agreeing with the sentiment, “Well it’s a good thing it’s game night, cause we  _ need _ to celebrate!”

*

“This game is rigged!” Ashley admonishes. She tries to throw her sheet of paper in protest, but it gently flutters to the floor, which undercuts her attempted show of outrage, "The rules clearly give Phil an unfair advantage!” 

“Well, yeah,” Madeleine says as she scribbles on her own paper, “You wouldn’t invent a game that you can lose.”

“I’m offended by your implication that I would stoop so low as to  _ cheat _ in a game,” Phil lifts his chin indignantly, “Especially one I invented.” 

“It’s okay, babe,” Madeleine soothes Ashley, stroking her shin from her place in front of the sofa, “After we’re done with this round we can play something a little more your speed… like go fish!” Ash pulls away from her touch, mouth and eyes wide in mock horror.

“I am  _ offended! _ ” her hand flies to her chest, “I have never been so insulted in my life-”

“Would you say that you’re feeling…” the biggest shit-eating grin spreads across Phil’s face, “Mad?” The room collectively groans and Mads punches Phil in the arm as she rolls her eyes.

“Hilarious, Phil,” Ash sighs.

“Great pun, hun,” Ben beams.

“Leave,” Dan says, staring Phil down and pointing at the door. Phil bows his head to hide his giggles in his hands and Ben reaches over to sweep his fringe out of his eyes with a fond smile. Phil starts at the unexpected touch, but leans willingly into it with a smile. 

“On second thought, I need to remove myself from this situation before I literally vomit,” Dan says, standing up, “All this couple-y shit is making me nauseous.” He smiles crookedly to undercut his harsh words. Mads jumps up as well.

“I’ll get more mixers!” She flits to the kitchen and is back with an armful of bottles before Dan makes his escape to the toilet. It’s been a surprisingly great time. He hasn’t felt like the fifth wheel and Ash has been… really nice. Ben has been nice too, but Dan is having a hard time meeting his eye. 

He hasn’t told Mads yet. He’s not sure he wants to. When they had met back up at the bar, he hadn’t specified  _ when _ he had slept with Ben, just mentioned it had happened. She and Phil are now friends and the knowledge of Ben’s infidelity would be a burden. Also… how is he even supposed to approach that kind of conversation? And maybe Dan was the only case of infidelity, just a blip in an otherwise committed relationship. He doesn’t want to be responsible for a painful and unnecessary break up. 

He exits the bathroom in a haze of these thoughts and nearly barrels over Ben. Their eyes lock before Dan diverts his eyes to the floor, trying to shuffle past with a murmured apology. 

Ben’s fingers wrap around his forearm, pulling Dan to a stop out of view of the laughing figures in the living room. Dan looks at the place where Ben holds him captive, then up into his eyes. They’re hardened black holes in the shadowed corridor.

“I would appreciate it if you kept our little fling between us,” he says quietly, “I made a mistake and Phil has a fragile heart. I don’t want to see him hurt.” Ben doesn’t release his grip and Dan struggles to swallow. Ben’s face is gentle curves and a reassuring smile, but underneath Dan can sense… something. Something hard and dark. Something that doesn’t like to be challenged. 

“Right,” Dan says, stretching his lips into a tight smile. Ben’s smile widens with relief and he nods, releasing Dan’s arm as he disappears into the toilet.

Dan stands in the dark. A chorus of laughter still playing in the background. It’s an uncomfortable soundtrack to the solitude surrounding him. If he was confused on what to do before, he’s now completely lost in the mire. He lets his feet wander until he finds himself in his room. He hears himself mumbling as he paces across the floor, but the words aren’t intelligible. The thoughts behind them are a chaotic jumble of emotions.

Phil isn’t fragile. Phil is solid and sure. Dan knows because Phil has seen Dan’s pain and met it with steady reassurance. Phil saw Dan’s vulnerability and made him feel safe. Sure, Phil’s hands shake even when he’s not nervous. He hides his feelings behind silly stories and flips of fringe. His eyes sometimes flash with fear when Dan attempts to touch him or makes a flirtatious comment. But he’s also open and honest. He knows his limits and states them clearly. He tempers his anxieties as they flare. There is unconditional, raw comfort where their bodies press together. There are no expectations for their relationship to be anything more than it is. 

Dan doesn’t expect anything more from Phil than he’s willing to give. Their friendship is in its infancy, but he can already feel the strength building in the tentative tendrils of connection between them. He doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that. If he tells Phil about his dalliance with Ben then he risks alienating Phil by being complicit in his adultery. If he keeps this a secret, he will be lying by omission and allowing Phil to continue in a dishonest relationship.

He re-enters the lounge and makes himself a strong drink as he settles back into the evening of games. 

“Where did you disappear to, Dan?” Ashley’s head tilts to the side and her face holds confused concern. 

“Oh, erm,” he falters for an appropriate response, eyes flitting briefly to meet Ben’s steely gaze. Now is not the time to be having a crisis about all this. They’re meant to be celebrating and having fun with friends, “I just needed a moment to be an introvert,” he attempts his most award-winning smile. It must be convincing enough because the conversation shifts back to non-Dan discussion. 

Then Dan starts to notice. Phil hasn’t reached out for Ben once this entire evening. Sure, they’ve been casually physical, but Ben always initiates contact and Phil always jumps before sinking into him. It's not the kind of jump that happens when a person is used to angry hands. It's a jump of surprise, like he's not used to contact at all. Which is ridiculous. Because Phil's first instinct has always been to reach out. Whether his hands are shaking or still, they find their way toward solid things and his touch is grounding. 

This oddity is thrown into stark contrast by the gentle push and pull occurring between Mads and Ash. They're not even dating, but they show their care for each other in gentle touches and biting words that are always asking for permission, asking if perhaps it's too far. They aren't gentle. They've known each other long enough that their hesitance has faded and they reach out without fear. Mads pushes Ash's hair behind her ear, keeping their eyes locked as if to ask  _ is this okay? _ Ash smiles softly in silent confirmation. Ash shifts and hooks her knee over Mads' shoulder, gently, waiting and only relaxes into it when Mads leans her cheek against the limb. 

They're always asking, never assuming. Phil doesn't ask. He sits stiffly and glances quickly at Ben, who never meets his eye. Ben doesn't ask. He reaches out when Phil isn't looking at him and ignores Phil’s attention as soon as he gets it. He pulls away just as Phil starts to settle, shifting as though to dispel discomfort. 

And that’s when Dan decides. He’s not sure how and he’s still terrified that it will fuck everything up, but he can’t lie to Phil. He can’t lie to Mads. He spent a few months running and it hadn’t worked. Now it’s just a question of how and when. 

They’re still playing Phil's game, but as the almighty creator is quite intoxicated and everyone's too drunk to remember new rules to a strange game. Everyone except Ben, who stands on steady feet and stretches, announcing his imminent departure. 

“Nooooo,” Phil whines in northern. Ben is within his reach, but Phil’s hands stutter as they reach out for him. 

“Yes, Phil,” Ben laughs, grabbing one of Phil’s shaking hands and squeezing, “I have get to the firm early tomorrow morning and I’ve already stayed much later than I had planned. I’ll come over to yours tomorrow after work.” Ben leans down and presses closed lips briefly to Phil’s forehead, “Congrats on the video, babe.” Phil’s shoulders shimmy in delight under his praise.

"Of course he's a fucking lawyer," Dan mutters into his drink, quiet enough that no one hears him. Though based on Mads’ not-so-subtle snort and pressed lips, he’s been caught. It’s a bit petty and immature of him to be jealous of Ben’s job. And maybe he’s a little envious, but he's certainly not going to admit to that. 

Ben leaves and Phil collapses into Ashley’s lap, who cooes his grumbles away and ruffles his stiff, straightened hair. They’re both too drunk to notice when Dan makes eye contact with Madeleine across the room, then pointedly stands and makes his way to her room, breaking eye contact only when he’s out of view. 

His mind is a swirling mess of confusion and he can’t sit still. He paces around the bed, chewing his thumb and mussing up his hair just to push it back into place. Madeleine doesn’t even get to close the door completely before the words are spilling out of his mouth.

“I fucked Ben,” Madeleine turns to him slowly eyebrows coming together, but not moving or speaking. He starts pacing again. 

“I know,” she says hesitantly, “You said you might’ve.”

“Well I have.” He paces.

“Okay,” her voice is gentle, but his pulse is rushing past his ears and everything is too loud, “And you’re only just freaking out about this because...?” He stops and turns to look at her where she’s still stood at the door.

“They’ve been dating for over a year.” Her forehead wrinkles, her eyes dart and blink rapidly, her lips purse as confusion plays across her face. Then everything relaxes into open realisation.

“And when-”

“A couple months ago.” His breaths come in short, shallow, silent gasps.

“Fuck.”

“What do I do?” he whines.

“Did you know?” her eyebrows are creased together again.

“No!”

“Fuck.”

“Very helpful, Mads,” he starts pacing again, worrying his thumb, his idle hand tucked into his armpit. Madeleine mirrors his pose, shoving both hands under her arms and doing a great job of looking miffed.

“What the fuck can I say?” she mutters into the room. 

“I don’t know! Something helpful?” he huffs, then plops onto his back on the bed, feet swishing across the floor before settling. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice now muffled, Dan sits up in time to see her hands drop from her face. 

“Ben asked me not to tell Phil,” he says. Madeleine’s eyes widen as they focus on Dan again.

“What? When?”

“Tonight,” Ben’s dark, commanding stare flashes into his mind and he shivers as he wraps his arms around himself again. 

“Fuck.”

“Again, helpful.” 

“I know, I know, just-” They spend a long time looking at each other, both at a loss of what to say that might make this clustershit of a situation any better, “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Dan agrees. “Eloquent as always, Mads.” His sarcasm is carefully crafted so as not to implicate Madeleine. She’s not at fault for the shit things that have happened any more than Dan is, though she isn’t as directly involved in the scandal. 

“Are you going to tell Phil?” And there it is. The question he has been agonising over and still has no easy answer.

“Yes,” he starts, “No. Fuck. I feel like I have to?” he extricates his arms from around himself to flail them uselessly in the air: the perfect expression of his conflicting mess of emotions surrounding the subject.

“Fuck,” she breathes it into the room and it hangs in the air.

“Imaginative,” he mumbles.

“How the fuck are you going to tell him?” and that. That is the real question. How the fuck, indeed. 

“Fuck if I know,” he pulls his knees up into himself, toes hanging off the edge of the bed, wiggling in the air, “It’s all fucked up Mads and I don’t know what to do.” He sounds as hopeless as he feels and he feels completely hopeless. Then the doorknob rattles and Mads has to push against it to keep it from opening, eyes wide as they meet Dan’s.

“Mads, let us in!” Ashley slurs, “We just want a cuddle!”

“Is Dan in there too?” Phil’s voice calls out, then quietly adds, “Dan is the  _ best _ at cuddling. He’s so tall and warm and spindly.” Madeleine rolls her eyes so hard that Dan has to stifle a laugh. 

“Spindly?” Ashley says, sounding dubious, “That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Phil’s voice going higher in volume and pitch, “But he’s a master cuddlerer...er. He’s really good at cuddling.”

“I prefer Mads, hands down,” Ashley says firmly, “She’s got squishy stuff in all the right places.” Phil hums in agreement. 

“She is quite comfortable, isn’t she?” Mads shakes her head as she turns to open the door. 

“I don’t have enough space in my bed for four drunk fucks, so we’re going to have to play by primary school rules,” she says, grabbing Ash’s wrist and pulling her over to the bed. She releases her and grabs Dan’s wrist, yanking him up and pulling him down the hall and into his room. She turns on a bedside lamp and turns to him.

“We’ll talk to him about it tomorrow, yeah?” Madeleine hurriedly whispers. Dan can hear Phil shuffling his way toward them and his anxiety builds with every footfall. Now that he’s standing he can feel the dregs of alcohol pulling his body in circles. He’s probably less likely to be sick if he waits to have this conversation when there isn’t alcohol involved. He nods. Mads smiles at him as Phil enters the room, then promptly leans his back against the wall by the doorframe. 

“Goodnight, boys! Sleep well!” and she’s gone back through the door, leaving Dan and Phil standing facing each other. Dan near the bed, Phil against the wall. 

“We’re not naked enough,” Phil mumbles. His head is tilted back and his eyes are closed. Dan laughs in amusement. It’s more of a nervous titter, but hopefully Phil’s too drunk to notice the difference. 

“And what do you suggest we do about that?” Dan tries to avoid sounding suggestive, but fails dramatically. His drunken brain was going to be useless then. That’s fine. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. 

“It’s your turn,” Phil groans.

“What’s my turn?” Dan feels a smirk creep onto his face, even as his eyebrows scrunch together. 

“I can’t move,” Phil mumbles, “Too drunk.” He holds his arms straight out in front of him and flops them around. Dan laughs, genuinely baffled.

“What?” 

Phil pulls his head off the wall with great effort, and has to work really hard to keep it from flopping immediately onto his chest. He tugs uselessly at the collar of his jumper, his fingers slipping until he sighs. His arms flop to his sides in defeat.

“It’s  _ your _ turn to help  _ me _ get naked,” Phil says, squirming and pouting his lips. They’re both drunk enough that this argument makes an incredible amount of sense. Phil had helped a drunk Dan get undressed and now Dan should help drunk Phil get undressed. Definitely a fair trade. Dan can’t stop his smirk from spreading into a smile. Drunk Phil is fucking adorable. 

“Yeah, alright,” he shrugs and makes his way over to Phil. As soon as he starts moving, Phil’s eyes snap to his and Dan stops. Phil’s eyes aren’t wide with fear this time. He takes in Dan’s form with languid ease. Phil’s gaze sweeps down his body, then back up to meet his eyes again. His head tips just slightly forward in invitation and Dan starts moving again. 

Dan’s thoughts are swirling, breaths coming faster than he would like. He slips his fingers under the hem of Phil’s jumper and keeps his eyes locked with Phil’s as he pulls it up and off. His fingers caress against Phil’s skin as he reaches under his shirt’s hem and Phil inhales a little more sharply. 

Dan knows he shouldn’t, but he’s weak. He lets his fingers grace over Phil’s skin as he drags it over Phil’s head. Phil’s breaths are faster and there’s a pink flush spreading across his chest. Dan drops the garment to the floor behind him and waits. He savors the electric charge between them and waits.

He waits.

He waits for the electricity to fade because Phil is drunk and he’s drunk and nothing good can come from following his urges this time. That’s what had gotten him into this mess. It’s already going to be hard enough telling Phil that his boyfriend is cheating. It’s going to be even harder to tell him that Ben had cheated with  _ Dan _ . 

Phil is beautiful. And kind. And stronger than Ben gives him credit for. 

“Do I need to help with your trousers or do you think you can manage those yourself?” Dan smirks and turns toward his bed without waiting for an answer. He drops his shirt and trousers then crawls under his duvet, pulling it up over his shoulder. The lamp turns off and the mattress shifts as Phil lifts the duvet and scoots himself right behind Dan, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. Dan feels lips brush between his shoulder blades and a sigh ghost past his neck.

“Good night, Dan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a long boi... 
> 
> Thanks @chaotic phan for being my creativity beta and @ILikeStopwatches for being my technical beta. @Nekia and @Onyx_Stardust I love you!


	16. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @chaotic phan for being my creativity beta and @ILikeStopwatches for being my technical beta. @Nekia and @Onyx_Stardust I love you!

Dan wakes up in a tangle of limbs and soft skin. Phil’s forehead is pressed against his nape and he has an arm tucked between his neck and the pillow. His breaths whisper down Dan’s spine, making him shiver. The haze of sleep lingers in his mind and he’s so content where he’s wrapped up in Phil’s arms. There’s a faint tug at the back of his mind, like he’s forgotten something. It’ll come to him, he’s sure, but for now he’s glad to ride the wave of happiness that is waking up in his bed next to a beautiful boy. He sighs.

Then he remembers.

He shoots up, sending Phil’s limbs flopping off of him.

“Fuck,” Dan breathes eloquently. Phil makes a confused noise indicating his sleep-addled state.

Phil’s hand moves lazily to wrap around his wrist. He tugs gently and Dan can do nothing more than stare, baffled, at the gesture. Dan looks at Phil’s face. His eyes are shut and he looks moments away from slipping into unconsciousness. Then Phil’s eyebrows begin to crease as his gentle tugs don’t have their desired effect.

“Come cuddle me some more,” he says. A smile jumps to Dan’s lips, spreading across his face. He could do with some more sleepy cuddles. Sleepy cuddles are nice. He yields to the gentle tugging on his wrist and falls into position half on top of Phil. He lets himself be a sprawled mess of limbs for a moment, then shifts Phil’s arm from under him so he can settle his body against Phil’s side. He scoots until his head is on one shoulder and places his open palm on the other, bending a knee to rest on Phil’s thigh. All perfectly chaste points of contact. Totally allowed. Phil sighs under him.

It might be a little too intimate, but they had both willingly jumped mostly-naked into bed last night, so Dan doesn’t feel too bad about it. He had fallen asleep with Phil’s bare chest pressed to his back. Still, he has to ask.

“Okay?” He isn’t able to see Phil’s face, just the wide expanse of his chest stretching out in front of him, rising and falling in an even rhythm. 

“Perfect,” Phil says and Dan feels the words rumble against his forehead where it fits against Phil’s neck. 

This is definitely not the most compromising situation he has woken up to find himself in, but he’s not drunk and it wasn’t a hookup. The reasons this feels odd are so far divorced from what he’s been going through these past few months. Phil’s embrace is a comfort. He feels safe and warm. There’s no regret or shame attached to their touches. 

Well, there’s some regret and shame boiling under Dan’s skin, but not because of anything that he or Phil have gotten up to. Dan chuckles breathily against the odd mix of guilt and relief. He feels Phil stiffen under his cheek, like he’s holding his breath.

“Is this okay? Is it weird?” Phil asks, his breaths uneven and faster. Dan hears his head shift against the pillow, “Don’t you have curly hair?” Dan’s breathy chuckles turn into full laughs. 

“This is nice and yes, but I straighten it so I don’t look like a hobbit,” he lifts his chin to look at Phil without lifting his head, “When did you see me with curly hair?” Phil had only met him after the incident at the club and Dan never goes out without straightening it. It hadn’t been a rainy day, as far as he could remember, so it couldn’t have been then. 

“Have you been stalking me, Phil Lester?” he raises a suspicious eyebrow, fighting a smirk. Phil smiles unabashedly back. 

"Yeah, Mads hired me on to make sure you were being faithful. She was suspicious that someone else might have caught your eye and stolen you from her." Dan snorts. It does sound like something Madeleine might do, if for different reasons.

“Still not dating Mads, Phil.” 

“Yeah, cause it’s completely normal to get naked in bed with your totally platonic friend.” Dan rests his forehead back into the crook of Phil’s neck as he chuckles to himself. 

“Well we’re naked in bed right now, so what does that make us?” 

Phil gasps, feigning shock.

“ _ I’m _ the other woman! I have betrayed my best friend by lying with her soulmate and now I must suffer the consequences of my lustful behavior!” Dan chuckles at Phil’s sudden theatrics.

Ashley’s voice carries in from the other room, “You boys better not be fucking in there!” 

They laugh conspiratorially, then Dan gets the best worst idea and he simply cannot ignore the temptation. So when Phil opens his mouth to shout back...

Dan lets out the most obscene moan he can muster. It’s a filthy sound that starts low in his chest and rises in pitch as it exits his mouth. He raises to his elbow, projecting toward the open door.

“Oh,  _ Phil _ ,” he gasps, then moans again, “Yeah, just like that!” He looks at Phil with a smirk, but Phil’s eyes are wide. Dan’s laughter turns to confusion at Phil’s shocked expression. Their eyes lock for several seconds before Phil’s gaze brushes over his lips. 

Then Phil scrambles with the sheets and stands up. He’s bending over to retrieve his clothes from the floor and now it’s Dan’s turn to stare wide-eyed. He’s so surprised by the reaction Phil had to his faux-moaning that he almost doesn’t notice the gentle curve between Phil’s broad shoulders and wide hips, or the roundness of his ass as he bends over, or the sporadic dark freckles across his back. 

Dan shakes his head and forces himself back to reality. 

“I’m making your post-coital breakfast!” Madeleine yells and the scents and sounds of sizzling bacon suddenly assaults his senses, “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please!” Phil responds as he pulls his shirt over his head. Dan doesn’t notice subtle muscles as they stretch and strain to get the tight shirt in place. Phil turns to look at Dan where he hasn’t moved from bed. Dan doesn’t notice that Phil has placed his hands in his front pockets rather conspicuously. “You getting up or do you want me to paint you like one of my french girls?” Phil smirks, but there’s some anxious energy playing behind his eyes. 

Dan doesn’t know how to respond to any of the thoughts flying through his mind at the moment. And apparently his body doesn’t know how to deal with it either because he’s stuck between hyperventilating and just ceasing to breathe. His eyes flick down to Phil’s zipper, but he can’t see the bulge that’s hidden between the fists Phil has shoved in his pockets. He trains his eyes back on Phil’s face and, despite not seeing anything untoward, he feels a sudden rush of blood- Dan quickly averts his gaze. 

“Toss me my jeans?” Dan asks as he shifts to sit up in bed, careful to keep the duvet over his bottom half. His trousers and shirt plop in a heap next to him. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly and hears Phil shift awkwardly before walking out of the door. As Dan pulls up his trousers, he has to shift himself around a few times to be able to fasten the button and zip them up, regretting his choice of unnecessarily tight jeans just a little bit, but joggers are… not an option.

He walks into the kitchen and takes in the scene. Madeleine frying bacon at the hob, Ashley sitting on the counter next to her, kicking against the cabinets, and Phil: a pile of limbs and messy hair crumpled against the kitchen table. Dan walks to where Madeleine set up the french press with freshly ground coffee beans and busies himself pouring boiling water and collecting mugs. 

This is going to be a trainwreck. Phil is going to hate him. Ben is probably secretly an assassin or maybe he knows some assassins. Maybe he works at Wolfram and Hart. Great. Ben’s an evil lawyer who’s going to send bloodthirsty demons after Dan for blabbing about their illicit affair. And Phil will just watch and laugh because he’s going to hate Dan for what happened. As he should. Dan hates Dan for what happened. Madeleine doesn’t seem to hate him for what happened, but she’s biased. And known to forgive people who don’t deserve it. Like Ash. Like Dan. 

“You okay there, mate?” Ashley reaches across the counter and rests a hand on Dan’s shoulder. Dan shoots her a tight-lipped smile, then goes back to making coffee. He doesn’t really love coffee, but it’s a good excuse to keep his mouth occupied and blessedly incapable of speech. He divvies out the hot dark liquid into four mugs and takes two over to the kitchen table, placing one in front of Phil. Phil looks up at the mug and Dan slides the sugar and cream toward him. 

“So what do you have planned for today, Phil?” Madeleine asks from the stove. She’s scrambling eggs in leftover bacon grease and it smells divine. 

Phil shrugs his shoulders, but doesn’t lift his eyes from his coffee mug as he stirs in three sugars and a generous amount of cream. Once his coffee is stirred, but still too hot to drink, he rests his head back on the table.

“I’ve dropped a bombshell of a video on my audience and I’m trying to keep myself too distracted to read the comments,” Phil mutters, his voice muffled by his arms, “This hangover is doing the trick.” 

“Will greasy breakfast and a coffee perk you up too much?” Madeleine smirks over at him. 

“Don’t even joke about making food and denying me the pleasure of putting it in my mouth,” Phil groans. Ash laughs as she jumps off the counter and walks to sidle into the seat next to Phil.

“Do you think about the words you’re going to say before you say them?” Dan asks with a smirk. Phil shrugs a shoulder. This is good. This is comfortable. Dan can do this kind of gentle teasing. It’s always been as easy as breathing.

“Hey, Phil,” Ash leans into his side, nudging at his arm until he sits back and lets it drape over her shoulders, “So I know Ben said he had to be up early for work, but I figured he would want to spend the night at your place.” Oh dear. This is not as good.

“Yeah, wasn’t he, like, the main reason you decided to come out in the first place?” Madeleine joins in. Dan’s eyebrows furrow. 

“What do you mean?” he can’t stop his mouth from saying.

“He was really supportive of the idea,” Phil says to the ceiling. This isn’t where Dan wants this conversation to go. They're entering dangerous territory and Dan is  _ not _ ready for the incoming shitstorm. 

“So wouldn’t the video being posted warrant some,” Ash wriggles her eyebrows, “celebration?” 

Dan takes a shaky breath as Phil sighs, “His job requires more of his time than mine does. And he came to game night, even though he worked all day and had to be up early for work again this morning.” Dan’s stomach swirls uncomfortably around acidic coffee. He tries to breathe through it. He tries to press it down, but it’s too familiar, too close. He can hear the manipulation implicit in the excuses Phil readily provides.

“Didn’t you just hole yourself away for three days to film and edit this one video together?” Dan says into his coffee.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“And that was a simple video with a few cuts between two scenes,” Dan’s not able to get his eyes to focus on the mug in front of him, “And that doesn’t factor in time for planning and writing a script, which I’m sure takes much longer that the actual filming and editing.” Madeleine’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, a gentle warning. She squeezes. 

“Dan-”

“And Ben encouraged you to come out, to make this part of yourself public?” He meets Phil’s eyes. Phil looks hesitant, confused, suspicious of Dan’s sudden heated reaction. Dan doesn’t blame him. He feels a little crazy himself. 

“Dan.” Madeleine’s voice is firm, but he can barely hear her.

“And what fucking law firm is open early on a Saturday morning?” Phil’s eyes lose focus and his expression turns into one of troubled contemplation. Madeleine grabs Dan’s coffee out of his hands and sets it down.

“Dan,” she raises his chin so she’s looking him in the eye. The touch brings him back to reality and a rush of guilt flashes through his chest. He feels his cheeks warm. He gently pulls his face out of Madeleine’s hand and hangs his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, then stands slowly and looks at Phil from under his fringe, “I’m s- I’m just- I’m gonna- I need a minute.” He walks swiftly to his bedroom and starts pacing. 

Not good. Very not good. This is not how Dan wanted to handle any of this. This isn’t fair to him or Phil. Their connection is something strong and pure and Ben is standing there between them fucking it all up. He doesn’t even have to be physically present. Ben’s very existence in the world is a weight sitting on Dan’s chest. He feels everything sinking into the dark. 

“Dan,” Phil is standing in the doorway. His expression is stony, distant. Dan can almost see the apparition of Ben standing between them, that stormy expression staring Dan down. Dan feels himself shrinking away from him. “Mads said you have something to tell me.” 

Dan tears his gaze from Phil. He walks around his bed and sits against the headboard trying to be as far away from Phil as possible. He pulls his knees to his chest, shrinking under Phil’s expectant stare. Phil waits for Dan to figure out what he wants to say. 

“Ben propositioned me in November,” Dan rushes to get it out, “I didn’t know you were dating and I was in the middle of an identity crisis and I slept with him,” he takes a breath and closes his eyes, “I’m sorry.” 

They sit in silence for a long time. Dan’s mind is racing over all the possible reactions that Phil could have to this confession. Dan doesn’t look at Phil. He doesn’t cry or feel much of anything. He waits in silence, feeling numb to the weight of his words and all of Phil’s potential reactions. There are just too many and all of them end in hurt and confusion. All of them end with Dan causing Phil too much pain, but he has already said the words and there’s no way to take it back. 

“I came out for him,” Phil says casually, calmly, pulling Dan's gaze to his face. He looks sad and hurt and betrayed, just like Dan knew he would. Slivers of glass work their way into Dan's heart with every beat in his chest, 

“I didn’t want to, but he kept going on about being open and honest about who I am. About how he didn’t want to have to hide our relationship when we get approached by fans.” Dan looks down at his knees. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s little more than a whisper. Silence. Then the mattress sinks under Phil’s weight and Dan looks up to see Phil crawling toward him. Phil pushes his knees between Dan’s ankles and places his hands on the bed on either side of Dan’s hips. Too close. So close their breaths ghost over each others’ faces, getting ragged and shallow. Phil’s eyes aren’t stony cold anymore. They’re gentle and open and insistent. Dan feels his chest crack open, finds his hands rising and coming to rest on either side of Phil’s neck, thumbs stroking lightly over Phil’s jaw. 

“Dan,” Phil breathes, leaning forward until their foreheads rest against each other. Dan’s breath catches, fear striking through him. “Truth or Dare?” Dan huffs a laugh. So this is how Phil is going to play it, then. 

“Dare,” he whispers back. His eyes scan over Phil’s open expression, noting their matching smiles. As they relax into being in each other’s space, Phil’s lips part and it’s taking everything Dan has not to lean forward and just-

“Kiss me.” Their breaths stutter together as Dan tilts his head hesitantly and softly presses against Phil’s mouth. Pillow soft lips meet and brush lightly before parting. Dan shivers at the feeling of Phil’s breath as he pulls away. 

“Phil, that was,” he sighs and rests his forehead back against Phil, trying to sort through it all and come up with any response that might adequately describe how positively he feels about what just happened, “so incredibly gay.” Phil barks a laugh, then snickers as he sits back on his ankles. 

“ _ You’re _ gay,” Phil says through a smirk.

“I mean, probably,” Dan shrugs, “But that’s not really the point-”

“Breakfast’s ready!” Ashely calls from the kitchen. 

“Foooooood!” Phil moans as he shuffles off the bed, then trots out the door like the most graceful of hippos. Dan gets up to follow him toward the incredibly appetising scent. 

Phil grabs a handful of bacon, despite Madeleine’s protests, and hands a piece to Dan. He walks over to plop himself next to Ashley, giving her a piece as well.

“Hey, Ash,” Phil smiles brightly around a bite of bacon, “Did you know that Ben’s been cheating on me?” Dan’s stomach drops. 

“What?” Ash’s eyes go wide with shock. 

“Yeah, for a few months now. He’s probably out doing it right now,” he says, still smiling, “Dan was right, what kind of law firm is open early on a Saturday morning?” Phil is still smiling. Which is weird. It’s kinda weirding Dan out a little bit.

“Oh, honey,” Ash’s voice drips with concern, “Are you okay?” 

“I mean, probably not. We’ve been dating for over a year and I was pressured into coming out on the internet by him. Which is going to cause all kinds of issues, but right now I’m just feeling a little free?” Dan scans his face for any signs of distress, but just sees that smile still spread wide across his face. Despite his words, Dan can’t help but think he’s putting on a brave face in response to heartbreak.

“I’m sure I’ll freak out about it later, but right now I’m just glad I know where everyone stands,” Phil shrugs, “I’ve had the feeling that Ben’s been keeping things from me for a while now, so I’m not really surprised.” Madeleine meets Dan’s eye from across the room with a raised eyebrow and Dan can only stare back, baffled by everything that just happened. He shrugs in a way that hopefully conveys that he has no fucking idea how Phil is taking this so well.

“Fuck that guy,” Ash says, eyes wide and eyebrows creased, “Fuck that guy with a fucking chainsaw.” 

“Descriptive,” Mads offers, turning back to start dishing out portions. Phil gets up and attempts to sneak another strip of bacon. She wacks Phil’s hand away, “You’ll get your plate in a moment, now help out by making more coffee.” 

“Yes, mum,” Phil says cheerily, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, “Thanks, mum.” 

Phil grabs mugs out of the cabinet and Dan rushes to get some coffee beans. He smiles at Phil and bumps shoulders with him to get to the grinder. Phil refills the kettle as Dan washes out the press. Maybe he’s a little pretentious about the quality of the coffee he consumes. Does that conflict with his general dislike for coffee a bit? Yes. Yes it does. But he doesn’t like to think too hard about all that. 

And if Phil’s not ready to think about Ben… Dan gets it. He can see the carefully constructed wall behind Phil’s smile. Phil will take it down when he's ready. 

“And Phil,” Madeleine says as she hands a couple of full plates to him, pointing him toward the table, “You’re required to stay over again tonight. We’re going to have boxed wine and watch a movie of your choice.” Phil whines.

“Don’t you whine at me, young man!” Madeleine wags her finger at him, then hands him the other two plates and follows him with the plate containing the remainder of the bacon. Dan pours the boiled water and ground beans into the press, then brings it to the table to steep. They all settle down and tuck into the excessively greasy mess of bacon and eggs. Dan keeps sneaking peeks at Phil from across the table, a memory of contact tingling across his lips. He feels himself smiling into his plate for most of breakfast. 

Phil doesn’t hate him. Phil had asked to be kissed. Dan had kissed him. It was so unbelievable that he’s sure he’ll have some kind of fangirl screech fest in Madeleine’s direction later. He looks up at Phil and his smile falls from his face. Phil’s eyebrows are pulled together and he’s worrying the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. His hands sit idly on either side of his untouched plate.

“Will-” Phil starts, then stops. His chin falls to his chest. Ash places a hand on his back. He takes a shaky breath, then lifts his head, “Would it be alright if I called Ben after breakfast?” His eyes shine and his lips wobble as he exhales, “I want you all to be here when I-” a sob interrupts him and his hands come up to cover his face. 

“Of course, love,” Madeleine says gently as Ashley starts rubbing gentle circles, “Whatever you need.” Phil breathes into his hands for a while and the room is quiet while they wait. Eventually Phil pulls his hands from his face and grabs a napkin to dry his eyes. 

He sniffs, “Thanks,” then sends a weak smile in Madeleine’s direction. Ash leans her cheek against Phil’s shoulder. None of them are eating and the silence is deafening. Dan tries his best to stay quiet. Dan tries his best not to fidget. Dan tries his best not to say anything.

“Just call him already, Jesus Christ,” he blurts, cheeks immediately aflame. He can feel Madeleine’s eyes burning holes into the side of his face, but no one was saying anything or eating anything and it was bloody awkward. Now the silence is longer and louder and there’s actual tension in the air. Dan can’t stop himself from squirming in his seat. He sets his fork down on the table and leans against the back of his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

The Phil stands up and walks into Dan’s room and,  _ that’s just great, now Phil hates me because I’m a stupid twat who demanded he do a thing he wasn’t ready to do _ . Dan sighs and scrunches his eyes closed, mentally punching himself in the face for being pushy and awkward and incapable of handling silence. 

“Yeah, Ben?” Phil’s voice rings out across the flat and Dan is suddenly standing, walking, drawn to Phil, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re very busy. I was just calling to break up with you.” 


	17. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @chaotic phan for being my creativity beta and @ILikeStopwatches for being my technical beta. @Nekia and @Onyx_Stardust I love you!

Dan makes it to the entrance of his room. Phil is stood facing away from the door with the phone to his ear. His shoulders are hunched, his free hand wrapped around his waist. Dan feels Madeleine and Ash’s presence behind him and their silent support pushes him forward. 

“No I don’t think we have anything more to talk about, Benjamin,” Phil says, “Have fun with whoever’s currently got your cock in their mouth, you piece of shit.” He yanks the phone away from his ear, staring at it with a look of disgust, then jabs at the screen before tossing it onto the bed. He wraps his arms around himself and his head falls to his chest. 

Dan takes a few tentative steps forward and reaches out. The tips of his fingers brush against Phil’s shoulder.

-

Ben showed up at Phil’s doorstep bearing raw ingredients for homemade gyoza and they spent the evening working together to make and cook them. Ben’s creations had the perfect ratio of filling to wrapper and were delicately pleated along the edges. The ones Phil made had turned out messy and imperfect, but they had tasted just as good. After their bellies were overfull, they settled into the sofa with a sweet red wine Ben had picked up and a black and white movie that was one of Ben’s favorites. 

He looked so beautiful across the expanse of the sofa. The lights flashing across his face highlighting the smooth profile, the soft curve of his nose, the pucker of his lips. He had a way of filling up the room with his presence where Phil shrank away. Phil longed for Ben to crash over him, but found himself bringing his knees to his chest, eyes turned resolutely to the screen. The screen grew dark and Phil jumped as he felt Ben’s fingers traipse across his neck. The spark of the touch spread into flame under his skin.

Phil lay in bed. Alone. Seething without a clear reason as to why. Ben had left hours ago and it had been… great. He had felt wanted and loved. Then Ben was pulling his clothes back on and heading home to his own flat, citing an early start the next morning. 

Restlessly staring at the ceiling, then looking over at the empty space next to him, he pushed off his covers and grabbed his headphones, walking out the door to seek solace in silent darkness.

He could walk for hours, the streets being almost empty this late. The bars were closing, the clubs just starting to swing. Some nights he would come upon a gaggle of lads and always crossed the street to avoid them. Some nights there were girls that crossed the street to avoid his hooded person and that always made him feel sad. On this specific night he met Dan.

Dan didn't feel like a stranger. Even with that first gentle touch on his shoulder, Phil didn't jump. The touch had been hesitant, almost pleading. Phil had turned to look at him. His hair was curled with semi-dry sweat. His cheeks were red with exercise and cold. His eyes were wild but Phil hadn't seen him as a threat. There was something in the sweat-soaked, partially dried, partially frozen curls sat atop his head. The gentle heat in the depths of his dark eyes. He felt familiar. He wanted to help this lost boy find his way. When Dan fell, something within him rose up. His brain kicked into survival mode, but instead of an anxiety attack he went into action to help someone. To help Dan. 

He saw Dan's hooded eyelids and heard his slurred speech. His brain supplied  _ hypothermia _ along with a litany of memories and flashes of articles about symptoms and treatment. He had helped his parents care for wounded animals when he was growing up. He had cared for animals that felt cold to the touch, but didn't shiver until they were brought inside his warm childhood home. He had almost gotten frostbite one winter when he had worn trainers instead of boots to go sledding. He could still remember the white-hot heat of ice-cold water against his frozen toes as his mum tried to gently ease warm blood back into them.

He hadn’t hesitated to bring Dan into his home. He hadn't thought about the implications of bringing a stranger to his flat in the middle of the night because Dan wasn't a stranger. 

“So I hear you’ve kidnapped my best friend and are currently holding him hostage,” her voice said over the phone.

“No! I haven’t-”

“I also heard something about disrobing him?”

“Well, I-”

“What exactly are your intentions with Dan -- what was your name?”

“Philip Michael Lester,” he said. Why did he feel the need to use his full name? “Erm, Phil.”

“Lupita Madeleine Andreas-Orville,” she said with a chuckle, “Mads. It’s a pleasure.”

“No intentions,” Phil rushed, “I think he has hypothermia and I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought him back here.” 

“Is he okay?” Madeleine asked, her voice pitched up in concern, “Do I need to come and pick him up?”

“No, no!” he looked over at Dan and saw his eyelids drooping, “I actually think he’s about to fall asleep. I don’t mind him staying over. In fact I would prefer it since he’s already settled. If you’d like I can give you my number or address or both so you know where he is and can check up on him.” Madeleine was quiet on the other end of the line, “Madeleine?”

“It’s Mads,” she said, “and yeah, what’s your number?” He gave it to her readily.

“Okay, and Phil?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Dan woke up and his eyes were hollow. Phil looked on, scared. He knew something just as life-threatening was happening, but he didn't recognize the symptoms. He didn't know the treatment. 

“No, no. I don’t mind helping out,” he said, closing the door behind him and ushering Madeleine into his kitchen, “I don’t mind him staying here at all, obviously. I just wasn’t sure what to do, so I called.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Madeleine said, “It took me by surprise at first too. He doesn’t usually stay like this for more than a few hours, but last night clearly took a lot out of him.” Phil nodded and they were both quiet for a while. Madeleine shifted between the balls of her feet slowly. Suddenly Phil realised that Madeleine was a guest in his flat and he was neglecting his duties as a host.

“Oh! Would you like something to eat or drink? There are some leftover pancakes and I can make tea or coffee if you like.” Madeleine smiled.

“Yeah, some tea would be great, thanks.” He sent a smile back at her.

“So how did you and Dan meet?” he started collecting materials from cupboards.

“Oh it’s a long story involving a lot of alcohol,” she said, walking over and jumping up onto the countertop like she owned the place, “but it’s not really my story to tell. And besides, I’m intrigued by the mysterious figure who dissolved out of the shadows and swept my friend off in the middle of the night with no intentions.” Phil looked up at her smirk and felt a grin rise to match hers. 

“Oh, you know,” he said, “Just doing my duty. Rescuing  _ Dan-sels _ in distress.” Madeleine snorted.

“Oh boy,” she giggled, “You’re fucking adorable and all, but that was quite possibly the  _ worst _ pun to have ever been uttered into existence.” Phil lifted his chin with pride and got to work making a pot of tea. 

Phil pulled on his headphones then shifted his hood over them as he started his walk back to his flat. On top of the much needed caffeine boost, Dan had been great company. They had spent several hours just talking and Phil was glad to have come into contact with a potential friend. 

He felt a strike of guilt as he realised that he hadn’t mentioned Ben once. Ben had been drifting recently, getting stuck pulling late nights at the firm. It seemed that every time Phil was between videos, Ben couldn’t get away, which was… fine. He was just starting out and working your way up the ladder was stressful and messy and required a lot of elbow grease. Phil understood why he didn’t have much spare time for him. It would get better, he just had to stick it out until Ben had built up a solid foundation of clients at work.

It was just starting to get dark when he entered his flat and he was surprised by the smell of tomatoes and seafood.

“Ben?” he called out into the flat. Ben peeked around the corner in an apron sporting a nude male form that was definitely an exact replica of Phil’s incredibly manly, muscular form. 

“Babe!” Ben said before disappearing back toward the stove, “I’m just finishing up the paella. Would you pour a couple glasses of the white in the fridge?” Phil moved to the fridge and grabbed the bottle, but his mind kept wandering back to his bedroom… and the person who had occupied it last night. He hoped that Dan had gotten back to his dorms okay. Phil pulled out his phone. No new messages.

“Have you thought about that video idea I suggested?” Ben asked, stirring sauce on the stove.

“I’ve thought about it,” Phil said, opening cabinet doors in search of glasses.

“I just want you to be able to live your truth openly and honestly.”

“I know,” Phil said with a sigh, “I get it, but I’m not sure how I feel about coming out to the entire world,” Phil deposited the glasses onto the counter and opened the drawer to find a corkscrew. He rifled around, but didn’t see it, “It just feels like a big step and almost like… like an invasion of privacy? Like, my sexuality isn’t something that directly affects my content, so why should I open myself up to the hate that will hound me the second I say it when I’m happy just living my life and loving who I love?” He sifted through a few more drawers. He pumped his fist when he found it and turned to Ben with a smile.

“I feel like you’re ashamed to be with me.” Ben’s voice was hard and his face was scrunched up and stony. Phil’s stomach became a knot, pulling at the back of his throat. 

“What?! No, that’s not why I-”

“When those girls approached us you dropped my hand like the touch of it was burning you. And I smiled and took your picture… but it was embarrassing, Phil! I was out on a date with my boyfriend and I ended up being relegated to photographer.” Phil swallowed dryly. He turned back toward the wine bottle, but couldn’t find the strength to move his hands up to open it. 

“I…” The idea of revealing his sexual preferences to the world was not an appealing one. He already had the occasional slur tossed his way in the comments on his videos. Phil was pretty sure it was just people being needlessly cruel to get a reaction, but making this video would transform those kinds of comments into pointed attacks. 

Fuck he was a terrible boyfriend. He hadn’t stopped to consider Ben’s feelings about this issue at all. He didn’t know it had been affecting him this much. He hadn’t known that Ben felt this way, but he should have sensed it. Was this why Ben had felt so distant recently? Maybe that’s why he had been nudging Phil to make a coming out video. Ben just wanted to be able to walk down the street holding his boyfriend’s hand without having to hide the moment Phil was recognised. He took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” uneasiness battled compassion in Phil’s mind, “Maybe I can try… I’ll try writing up a script.” It wasn’t a promise to make the video but his swirling thoughts fogged his mind and he couldn’t sort through them enough to form a more solid answer.

Ben’s hands snuck around his waist unexpectedly, causing Phil to yelp in surprise before a fond smile crept its way across his face. Ben’s chin rested against his shoulder and he pecked a cheeky kiss against Phil’s jaw. 

“I love you, you know that right?” Phil shrugged Ben off with a giggle and his hands hardly shook as he got to work removing the pesky cork from the bottle. 

He spent many lonely nights with Madeleine telling each other about the tragedies of their past relationships. Madeleine was almost always crowned King of the Pity Party. To be fair, Phil couldn’t really compete. He’d had a few failed relationships, but most of his experiences were with Ben. Madeleine, on the other hand, had spent years waltzing in and out of the closet. She had had all kinds of flings from a scattering of people. She would touch on those short-lived things occasionally, but it always circled back.

There was only ever one girl. A consistent thread that stitched its way through her life, disappearing and reappearing in the fabric, only visible in bursts. She was beautiful and charismatic, but incapable of commitment. She regailed a tale of closeted romance in a small town. She spun a story of a spider who strung her along. Her particular brand of cruelty was that she tended to use Madeleine’s willingness to make out in public as a lure to hook up with guys. Then Madeleine invited Ashley to one of their game nights. 

“So,” Phil said to Mads after Ben and Ash had left, “Is that the fabled temptress who can’t keep it in her pants?” He studied her with a careful eye. Mads had never given her a name, but based on her description and the way she had seemed to be drawn to Ash’s presence… she  _ had _ to be Madeleine’s paramour. Madeleine flushed and fiddled with a loose thread on the couch. She didn’t respond. Soon their carefully cultivated comfortable silence stretched thin. The anxiety built up in his chest. Had he gotten it wrong? 

“Mads?” he whispered. Mads looked up at him and he could almost see the flurry of thoughts in the whites of her eyes. He felt his glabella tense. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m… I was…” she took in a shaky breath, “I wish Dan were here to talk me out of…” she sighed. Phil waited for a moment, but Madeleine didn’t seem to be able to get anything else out. She breathed in as if to speak, then aborted with another sigh.

“Talk you out of what?” 

Madeleine sighed in exasperation, “fucking Ash.”

“You’re  _ fucking  _ Ash?”

“No!” she started fidgeting uncomfortably, “Well, yes, but I meant, like… fucking  _ Ash _ .” Phil looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Okay, now I’m just confused.” Madeleine whined and collapsed against the arm of the couch.

“Dan was always good at curbing my,” she flicked her wrist, “impulse to take back up with her,” she took in a breath, “Ash and I got,” she looked at Phil then blushed and looked away, “close in college. She was in a really shitty situation when we met and I was head over heels instantly, but all she does is use me to get guys. We have our,” she waved her hands around in the air, finally settling on air quotes as she said, “‘moments.’ When she’ll be all about being with me and only me, but the second she gets a whiff that some guy wants to put his dick in her she bolts.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest and continued her campaign of  _ definitely not looking at Phil _ . Phil kept up his  _ definitely gonna keep looking at you until you explain yourself properly _ campaign and for a moment he feared he would lose, but then Madeleine sighed and finally met his eyes.

“Dan would remind me that I don’t deserve to be treated like shit by her just because she’s got issues,” she squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching her face up, “God, I’m such an  _ idiot _ .” She unfolded her arms and placed her hands over her face, sighing into them. Then she rubbed her face, massaging out the tension. 

“You still haven’t heard from Dan?” Phil asked. Madeleine shook her head with a close-lipped smile. “I’m sure he’ll turn back up. Maybe he just got swept up with finals and festive times?” Madeleine sighed.

“Yeah, maybe.” Another silence stretched over them and covered their conversation with a warm haze. Phil huffed into the quiet. 

“Well, I may not be Dan, but I can confirm that you deserve to be treated well by the people who care about you,” he crawled over and plopped his significantly larger body on top of her, snuggling his face against her stomach. She let out an  _ oof _ at the impact, but giggled and began playing with his hair. God, it was nice. He loved his boyfriend, but he wasn’t as casually physical as Madeleine. Sometimes Phil just  _ needed _ this kind of reassurance and Mads was never shy or hesitant in giving it. 

Phil’s parents were always touching. A peck on the cheek, a reassuring hand, and hugs. So many hugs. Ben was much more verbal in his affections and tended to help keep things tidy and make Phil dinner. It all made Phil feel loved, but Madeleine tracing a finger idly over the side of his face before returning to scratch at his scalp some more… it sank through his skin and warmed him. He hadn’t known how much he was aching until that moment. Phil felt whole with the gentle caresses and he hummed in contentment. He sent a thank you into the universe, hoping Dan might feel it. He never would have met Madeleine without his sudden appearance in- and just as sudden disappearance from- his life. He hoped that, wherever Dan was, he was okay. 

“You lucked out with Ben,” Madeleine said. Phil snuggled further into her, pushing his hands between the couch and her back. 

“I lucked out with you,” he replied. And he meant it.

“You bet your arse you did. I’m great.” A smile crept its way over Phil’s face as he tightened his arms around Madeleine.

Phil knocked on the door with trembling hands. He shook them out, tried to breathe. Every inhale was a struggle, every exhale stuttered. He wrapped his hands around each other and squeezed tight, anything to stop the tremors. He screwed his eyes shut, but air rushed through his nostrils too fast, in out in out in out. The door opened.

“Phil?” 

He basically tackled Madeleine over on his way through the door and was immediately pacing across the floor behind the sofa. 

“Phil, what’s wrong?” There were too many words. Too many thoughts. Too much. 

“Phil,” Madeleine grabbed his wrist and he was spun around mid-stride. She pulled him to the sofa and plopped down, pulling him in next to her, “What happened?”

“Ben-” a sob attacked him, but he cut it off, pushed it down, swallowed around it and just took a minute to  _ breathe _ . 

“What did Ben do?” her voice was calm.

“He… we…” Phil took a shaky breath, “We went back to mine after the club and,” he felt himself blush, “you know… then he just… left,” Phil’s head fell against the back of the couch. He felt like his lungs were freezing over with every inhale, like they might shatter with every exhale, “I don’t know what to do.” Phil looked over to see Madeleine chewing on the inside of her cheek, face screwed up in concentration. Phil’s mind quickly turned into a battlefield. 

“It doesn’t usually get to me like this,” Phil started with a whisper, “I know he’s just starting out and I know his job can take a lot out of him. I want to support him, but sometimes it feels like he’s pulling away and I’m scared. I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose him. He’s the first person that I really fell in love with. I just-” his lungs pulled air into him, rocking him back into the sofa. He felt Madeleine shift closer to him, pushing his arm out of the way, snaking one arm behind him and laying the other across his stomach. He let his face fall into the fluffy curls piled atop her head.

“I don’t know who I am without him,” he muttered against her hair, “I love him so much and it kills me when he leaves right after we’re… intimate.” His cheeks felt warm at the suggestion. 

“He’s done this before?” her voice is muffled, a soothing vibration against Phil’s chest. He nods and his eyes and nose stung until he had to sniff to keep the tears at bay.

“But when we’re together I feel so…” loved? safe? A few months ago both would have been true. Only in this moment it felt like he was drowning and Ben’s presence was the only thing that could pull his head above water, but he was never there long enough for Phil to clear his lungs. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions welling up inside him. He focused on trying to put the elusive feelings into words.

“When he’s there I feel okay, but then he’s gone and I feel…” the air felt like it was being pressed out of his body with the strength of his feelings. Phil struggled to whisper, “I feel so used.”

He almost hoped Madeleine didn’t hear him. He just needed to say it. He needed to voice the confusing jumble of thoughts and emotions that were rushing through his head. He felt like he was stuck under swirling waves. It was terrifying and he was too disoriented to find his way back to the surface. 

He was overreacting. Clearly he was making a big deal out of nothing. Ben was just busy with a demanding job in a competitive field. He wasn’t trying to do anything to hurt Phil. There were always kisses and cuddles after. Ben came over and they made dinner together at least twice a week. He’d been leaving so much recently because he was busy. But it had been working out fine, so why was he suddenly… he looked down at Madeleine and noticed the red rims around her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Phil shook his head to clear his thoughts, then moved to settle his free arm around her shoulders, “I know you’ve had a rough evening with… the whole Dan thing. You don’t need to hear me whinging about the little bumps in my long-term relationship.” It was fine. He was fine. He was getting worked up over little things that wouldn’t matter in the long run. 

“Phil,” Madeleine pulled back to look at him, “if the way Ben is treating you feels wrong, you should talk to him about it. He may not realise you’re feeling this way.” Phil felt his heart sinking in his chest. He had  _ tried _ to talk to Ben about it. He had spent so much time trying to open up. Without fail, they would end up fighting because Phil was being dramatic and Ben just wasn’t as touchy-feely as his boyfriend. 

Phil knew he tended to overthink. He knew he was more tactile than the majority of people. He didn’t want to force Ben into being physical just because he was clingy by nature. Ben’s boundaries were important and Phil would never violate that. And Ben  _ did _ touch him. They were intimate fairly often. So why did it never feel like enough? 

“You’re right,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll talk to him.” He forced a smile onto his lips.

“Why do we do this to ourselves?” Madeleine whispered, as she cuddled back into Phil’s chest. Phil pulled her closer and moved the hand around her shoulder up to pet against her hair. 

“I don’t know why I attract people who like to shit on me, but here I am again, lying down with a pile of steaming shit on my chest,” her arms tightened around his waist, “I expect this kind of thing from Ash, but Dan?” her voice broke over his name. She was quiet for a while as she tried to get her breathing back to normal. Phil restarted the gentle strokes over Madeline’s hair. When she recovered, she shook her head with a sniff, “The fuckface disappears for months then acts like nothing’s wrong as he leaves to gleefully hop on cock.”

Phil hummed in agreement, then was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. Phil’s head swiveled and he gently extricated himself from Madeleine’s grip to go answer it. He was surprised to find a disheveled mop of mostly straight fringe standing meekly in front of him.

“Dan?” Phil was just as baffled as Dan looked when his head shot up and his eyebrows creased for a millisecond.

“Phil?” Dan took a step back and looked around himself in confusion before he looked back at Phil, “Sorry, um,” guilt flickered across his face, “I was looking for Madeleine.”

“It’s alright, darling,” Mads said from behind him, “You can let fuckface in.” 

Phil had quickly fallen asleep wrapped around Madeleine with Dan's arm resting on his waist. The combination of touches kept him grounded, tethering him to reality. He hadn’t slept so well in weeks.

Waking up in Dan's embrace had felt safe and secure and natural. And that wasn't good because Phil had Ben. A boyfriend who treated him well and cooked him dinner and didn't mind doing the washing up after. A boyfriend who was reliable, sweet and respectable. He should feel these feelings after Ben stays the night. He should feel this way with Ben, not with a relative stranger's arms around him. 

“Hey guys! There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while…. Just here to reveal my secret identity as a cyborg! Pew! Pew!” he made finger guns at the camera, Phil snorted to himself, then shook his head, “Yeah, that’s just… avoiding things, not leaving that in.” 

“Babe, you here?” Ben’s voice floated from the front door. 

“Yeah, just filming,” Phil shouted back. He waited a couple of seconds for a response. Instead the door to his bedroom cracked open and Ben poked his head in. 

“Am I allowed to make dinner if I do it really quietly?” he was wearing a sweet smile that creased his eyes into thin lines, “Or do I need to order in tonight?” 

Phil leant forward and turned off the camera. Ben opened the door and Phil sighed as he fell back onto his bed. 

"You didn't have to stop filming, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But I'm not feeling up to filming this video today. Too much-" Phil picked a hand up off the bed and waved it vaguely around in the air above his face. Ben hummed a laugh from the doorway. 

Phil’s mind was foggy from sleep. He couldn't remember having slept so well in ages. But as the world around him became clearer with the absence of distracting touches, his mind started whirring at its regular pace again. 

In his delirious state, he moved his hand to Dan’s wrist and pulled gently, asking for his physical presence beside him. Needing the distraction that their contact provided before. When his gentle tug didn't have the desired effect, he heard himself grumbling, “Come cuddle me some more.”

Phil's thoughts were suddenly silenced when Dan collapsed next to him. Well, really more on top of him. Phil's chest was half covered by Dan's chest and his limbs were sprawled wherever they landed for a moment. Then Dan pushed Phil's arm out from under him and fitted himself against Phil's side. Dan settled his head on one of Phil's shoulders and an open palm on the other. Phil sighed with contentment.

His heart of glass shattered, leaving behind millions of emotional scars. The tips of Dan’s fingers brushed against Phil’s shoulder and Phil felt himself relax. Fingers dragged across his skin and the solidness of Dan’s body came to rest behind him. Warm arms wrapped around his waist and Dan’s cheek met Phil’s over his shoulder. Phil leant into it all. 

-

Dan stands bracing Phil against his chest with hands around his waist, cheek against cheek. Phil leans into him, melts against him. Lingering under the surface of their familiar, comforting touches is the realisation of what Dan had witnessed, what he had caused. 

He hadn’t been in his right mind. He had crawled into so many beds, found physical distraction with so many men in the past few months. If he had enabled one man’s cheating, how many more could he have caused to stray? How many people like Phil had he indirectly hurt? 

It doesn’t matter. It had been done. As much as he wishes it, he could not change the past. For now, he would focus on the things in front of him. 

For now he would enjoy this simple moment. These simple touches connecting and entwining bodies in need of comfort. He can’t change the past. He can’t undo the hurt he caused. But he can do his best to help. To help Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I usually have a couple of chapters written ahead of time, but life happens and I'm in school, so I've fallen behind and just barely started writing chapter 18 at this point. There might be a bit of a hiatus for a while I catch back up. I definitely don't want to rush anything through, so you might just have to wait for me to get my life together.
> 
> soz.


	18. That Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda fluffy more than anything else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @chaotic phan for being my creativity beta and @ILikeStopwatches for being my technical beta. @Onyx_Stardust you inspire me.

They stand in silence for an impossible stretch of time. Dan forces his mind to quiet. He focuses on keeping his breathing slow and steady. Eventually, Phil’s breathing slows to match his. Then Phil turns in his arms, his delicate fingers come to rest on Dan’s chest. Their foreheads meet and Dan feels his arms tighten against the small of Phil’s back, pulling him closer. 

This.

Dan wants nothing more than this for the rest of his life.

He realises slowly that Madeleine and Ashley have left. The sound of their conversation occasionally interrupted by dishes clinking and water running. Then Phil’s hands are moving and the world falls away as cool fingers explore past the collar of his shirt to tickle up the bare skin of his neck. Dan shivers at the contact. A brief flash of remembered pain quickens his breathing, then fingertips press up under his jaw. His head tilts willingly to meet soft parted lips and the world fades away again. The kisses are soft, hesitant, restrained. His breaths are ragged, gasping at each touch. Dan makes no moves to deepen the intensity, certain that any forward momentum would break the spell. 

Then Phil pulls back and Dan’s eyes open, not quite seeing past the haze of their contact as he breathes his way back toward reality. Phil steps away and Dan’s arms drop limply to his sides. He blinks a few times to regain focus. God, Phil is beautiful. His lips are flushed and glisten in the early morning light shining through the windows. His eyes are wide and unblinking as they search Dan’s face. 

Then Dan’s sight is pulled to Phil’s phone as the screen lights up with a message and he comes back to himself. Ben. Phil just broke up with Ben. Phil…  _ what was I thinking? Kissing Phil the moment after he _ … Dan swallows over the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I-” he looks at the floor and wraps his arms around his stomach, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-” a stuttering gasp interrupts Phil’s words. Dan glances up as Phil covers his face, his shoulders rising as he starts to shake. 

“Phil…” he takes a step forward, hand wavering in the space over Phil’s shoulder. He wants to pull Phil to his chest and hold him until the shaking stops. He wants to, but he knows that his touch might do more harm. He feels his own shoulders start to shake as he battles against himself, unsure of how to help.

“What can I do?” he whispers, “What do you need?” Phil closes the space between them, gasping, leaning against Dan with his face still in his hands. Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s shoulders, then moves a hand up to card through his hair. At his touch Phil melts into him, his shoulders relaxing. His breathing settles, his hands leave his face and they find their way over Dan’s shoulders as Phil moves his forehead to rest against Dan’s neck. Dan tightens his grip. 

“I feel so lost,” Phil sighs, the words ghost over Dan’s collarbone. He shivers at the feeling, absentmindedly letting his fingers continue to explore the messy black locks pressed against his cheek. There's a chiffon of calm fluttering over this moment of gentle comfort. Then the undercurrent of thoughts bubbles over as his mind settles around Phil’s words.

He feels lost too. His brain starts whirling through his current situation, reliving his recent failures. He failed epically at university and is completely lacking in prospective jobs. He spent a few months fucking his brains out and ignoring his best friend because he was… what, depressed? Not only that, but he’s been out fucking exclusively  _ boys _ . Guys, men, dudes, people of the penile persuasion… and sure, he basically knew he liked boys in an abstract way before college and since meeting Mads he’s been slowly coming to terms with that, but… wow he went from hasty handjobs of shame to full out fuckboy fest in record time. 

And now he’s holding a man- no, not just any man: Amazing Fucking Phil- against his chest and combing fingers through his hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The air feels stifling and heavy and it sticks in his throat as he tries to pull it in. His arms slacken around Phil and he tries to stop his hands from shaking as he pushes gently back against Phil’s shoulders to separate them. 

And now that he’s come back to his senses and is trying to regain some modicum of reality he’s circling back to the fact that Phil is crying because he just broke up with his boyfriend. The boyfriend who cheated on Phil with  _ him _ . He’s standing here trying to comfort the person he had a hand in hurting and  _ what kind of shitty person does that? _

“I’m sorry,” Dan croaks and his eyes fall to the floor as he backs away, “I’m so sorry, Phil.” His face feels hot and his sinuses prickle as his vision goes blurry. He rubs the heels of his hands against his face trying to push it all back down. He clears his throat and blinks rapidly, finally looking up to meet Phil’s eyes. His eyes are wide again, his eyebrows scrunch together, and his hands are making their way across his stomach to hug himself. Plates clink together in the kitchen and Dan’s head shoots toward the noise before he looks hesitantly back at Phil.

“Um, I’m gonna-” Dan clears his throat again, “I’m gonna go help clear up breakfast, um,” he shifts toward the door, his hands smoothing the front of his shirt.

“Hey Dan,” Phil’s cheeks are rosy, “Thanks, I guess. For telling me about Ben and… everything.”

“Yeah,” he says, not really sure Phil  _ should _ be thanking him, “So, yeah, um… I’m gonna go do that.” Dan hangs his head as he turns and walks away from Phil.

“Hey Dan,” Phil calls out as he is just about out of the door. Dan stops and half-turns to see Phil looking down at his feet as they shuffle against the carpet. His fringe has fallen across his face. It is full of splinges after being slept on the night before and isn’t the shiny straight curtain that Dan is used to seeing in Phil’s videos. His shirt is wrinkled from sitting in a heap on the floor overnight and his usual bright socks are missing. Dan watches as Phil’s toes curl around the fibre of the carpet, tugging gently. 

“Do you think-” Phil’s flips his fringe out of his face and Dan meets his unblinking gaze, “I mean, would you want to, maybe… I dunno, do this again sometime?” The smirk on Phil’s face could kill a Dan. 

*

“Change of plans,” Ashley says as she sets her phone down on the coffee table in front of her, “We’re going out tonight.” Madeleine’s eyes narrow as her gaze swings to look at her.

“Who made you the master of ceremonies for the evening?” she says and Ashley rolls her eyes, then squares up in front of her, fists on hips. Her slight frame doesn’t usually lend itself to being intimidating, but she’s standing in front of the sofa that everyone else is sitting on, which makes her presence feel imposing. 

“Phil just came out to the world,” she says, chin tilting up, “Now he has to make his debut on the scene and I intend to be responsible for the opulence of the occasion.”

“An opulent occasion?” Dan raises an eyebrow, “Any particular reason we’re using big fancy words to describe getting drunk and grinding on people in public?” 

“Yes, there is.  _ Because _ ,” Ashley says, then shimmies in excitement before plopping next to Madeleine on the sofa and patting erratically on her knee, “Cruz 101 is having a Masque Ball tonight and we  _ have _ to go!” Madeleine’s eyes widen as she lets out a soft  _ oooooooo _ .

Both girls turn to look at Dan and Phil who are sitting next to each other on the other end of the sofa. Then Phil looks at him, eyes wide with uncertainty. Dan smiles weakly. His mind is still worrying over everything that happened this morning, but he tells his erratic heartbeat to settle the fuck down and insists on letting his smile widen. 

“I think it could be fun,” he says because, while the idea of going out to the club that has so far proven to be a source of bad things happening in Dan’s life, Phil looks like he needs more of a distraction than a night in can provide, “and if you hate it, we can always come back here and take up with that boxed wine.” Phil turns to Madeleine and Ashley, then back to Dan. Then back to Madeleine and Ashley who wait on the edge of their seats for his approval. Phil sighs. 

“It could be fun,” he shrugs as Ashley squeals, bouncing up and down on the sofa and shaking Madeleine’s shoulder. Madeleine tries to look put off by her enthusiasm, but is grinning so widely that even rolling her eyes does little to hide how much she’s enjoying Ash’s excitement. 

*

Dan’s entering this club for the third time in his life and he’s nervous. They didn’t have time to go shopping for proper masks, so they had made do with what they had. Madeleine upped the eyeshadow, Ashley exaggerated the eyeliner and Dan didn’t do anything because honestly he couldn’t be bothered. They had a couple of strong drinks before making the trek over, but seeing the entrance still makes his heart race and his stomach clench. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. 

They walk through the curtain and Dan feels the eyes of multiple people turning to look at him. There’s quite a few familiar faces turned toward him and then Mads is grabbing his and Phil’s wrists and pulling them to the bar. She gets the bartender’s attention and there’s an awkward moment when he meets Dan’s eyes and… Fuck, why did he think it was a good idea to give the bartender a blowjob? This is going to be a fucking disaster. 

Four shot glasses are placed in a row and cheap vodka is poured to the rim. They all tap their glasses to the bar before shooting the burning liquid down. Dan laughs at the face Phil makes in response, which earns him a shove. 

Dan relaxes with his back and elbows against the bar and surveys the crowd. Only about half of the people in attendance are wearing masks, so he doesn’t feel too bothered by his own bare face. Phil is wearing a pair of yellow plaid cat ears that he used in a video one time. He’s so bloody cute and the black fuzzy outline melds into his hair so seamlessly. Dan reaches out and rubs on them, eliciting a purr as Phil nuzzles against Dan’s shoulder and paws at the air. Dan lets out a laugh and pulls Phil in, stroking up and down his back. This in turn makes Phil meow and nuzzle his nose in the crook of Dan’s neck. He giggles at the tickle of breath. Madeleine makes a retching sound beside them and Dan’s hands drop to his sides as he pulls away, letting his fringe fall over his eyes. 

Ash punches Madeleine's chest above her left boob without detaching from her place snuggled against her. Madeleine cries out  _ abuse! _ then pushes Ashley away getting a grumble in response. 

Then Madeleine is grabbing Phil's hand and pulling him toward the dance floor, despite Phil’s vehement objections. Dan watches them settle into the crowd with a smile on his face, flashes of yellow plaid floating above the crowd. 

“Hey Dan?” Ashley speaks, drawing his attention away from the crowd. She’s looking out to where his eyes had been the moment before, chewing on her bottom lip with creased eyebrows.

“Yeah?” he feels his eyebrows meet as well as her eyes flick to him, then back to the crowd. She shifts on her feet, standing up from leaning against the bar beside him. When she turns to look at him fully, her eyes are filled with determination.

“I know I’ve fucked up with Mads before,” she looks down at the floor for a minute, then pushes the hair that fell into her face behind her ear, “I don’t want to do that to her anymore.” 

Dan isn’t sure what to say. She looks back up at his face with that same determination, but behind it is a fear of rejection so intense that it burns through his eyes and down his spine. Which is… interesting. Ash has always been fierce in her rejection of external judgement and approval, but here she is asking Dan for his acceptance. It was a little too much pressure; a little too  _ real _ .

“Okay?” he raises an eyebrow, “So no more Mrs. Bad Bitch?” He fails to keep a smirk off his face. 

“Shut up,” she smiles as she rolls her eyes, “Just… give me a chance, okay? I’m seeing a therapist and trying to work through my shit,” she looks back out to where Madeleine is dancing and Phil is shuffling around with extreme concentration, “I didn’t know how good I had it with her before, but I do now. I want to be the person she deserves.” Dan stares at her profile. That look of determination is back, but softened. Dan follows her gaze and sees Madeleine duck and dodge around Phil’s drunken flailing, somehow still managing to look sensual. 

“I happen to think she can do better,” he says, side eyeing Ashley, “but for some reason she’s decided we’re both worth a little extra effort.” He lets his face soften into a smile. If Ash had asked him to give her another chance a few months ago, he would have laughed in her face and kicked her out of the door. But when Ashley looks over at him and mirrors his expression, a part of him understands. They have both been the undeserving recipients of Madeleine’s forgiveness. Ash sighs.

“She’s truly hopeless,” she shakes her head, smiling back out at the dance floor.

“But amazing,” Dan looks back out as well.

“Wouldn’t that be Phil?” She is doing a great job of faking innocent confusion and he really tries to look disappointed, but he snorts with a shake of his head.

“That was truly awful. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Ashley only hums in response.

“Do you want to dance?” 

He snorts, “Yeah, no thank you.” 

“Well then, I’m gonna go steal my girlfriend back from your boyfriend. Cheers!” 

_ Boyfriend _ .

Dan freezes for a moment and waits for the panic to set in. It’s definitely still there, his constant companion of shame and fear never really leaves him, but it’s muted by the thoughts that come after. There’s that initial flash of memories he tries to hard to forget, but then there’s a few new ones. A sparkling knight in shining armour clicking her heels together and chasing pain away. Entirely unnecessary nudity and mandatory cuddling. A couple of gentle kisses and intertwined bodies sharing warmth. The smell of pancakes and bacon after a long night out. 

They don’t make the bad memories fade or overwrite the pain, but they help to tip the scales away from fear toward hope. 

His eyes follow Ashley’s walk across the dance floor until she makes it to the now minimally shuffling Phil near the actively gyrating Mads. When she sees Ash her entire face lights up and their arms thread themselves perfectly around each other. Phil sees his chance and makes his way back toward the bar that Dan is still leaning against. He can still feel the eyes of the horny men he’s fucked watching him, but they fail to outshine Phil’s smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still doing that thing where I'm a struggle bus. Idk when the next chapter will be out, so just be patient. 
> 
> Cheers.


End file.
